


The Assistant

by queenhomeslice



Series: The Assistant [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Admin Assistant Reader, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Apologies, Arranged Marriage, Asshole Ignis Scientia, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Background Promptis - Freeform, Ballroom Dancing, Bisexual Noctis Lucis Caelum, Blowjobs, Boudoir photoshoot, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Chubby Reader, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Curvy Reader, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Forgiveness, Grinding, Ignis has a serious superiority complex, Illnesses, Lots of Crying, Love Confessions, Makeover, Making Out, Marriage Proposal, Misogyny, Nudity, Office Sex, Panic Attacks, Photographer Prompto Argentum, Pining, Political Alliances, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pre-Canon, Reader-Insert, Secretaries, Secretary Reader, Slow Burn, Surprise Kissing, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Vaginal Sex, Weddings, bathing together, don't worry he gets better....eventually, dressing up like a vampire, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-10-18 19:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Ignis has never been more insulted in his entire life. He’s trying not to take it out on the poor young woman who’s been assigned to help him with Citadel business, but he can’t help it. He’s the best—so why in the hell did Regis assign him a secretary?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy I’m on some weird Ignis train I guess. Idk how long this will be but, anyway. Wanted another Ignis/Reader thing, but kinda longer, slow-ish burn. So enjoy. Thank you for sticking with me, if you’re one of my regular readers. You are my reason for writing! 
> 
> *I will add more tags as the story updates, I promise! 
> 
> ______
> 
> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.

“I beg your pardon?” Ignis thinks maybe he misheard the king. Regis is sitting at his desk, remains of some painfully common fast food meal cooling in front of him. Clarus is seated on the plush black sofa, bifocals slid halfway down his nose, combing through a stack of documents. The Shield looks up—and Ignis corrects himself instantly. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, I’m just...not sure I heard you correctly.” 

Regis chuckles a little. “Nothing to forgive. I had a feeling you’d take it as a bit of a shock, my dear boy. But both Gladiolus and Noctis are concerned about you—they report to me that you work absurd hours, both in the Citadel and at Noct’s apartment. You’re only twenty, lad, and human—perhaps I have put too much on your shoulders.” 

Ignis feels his face grow hot and red, but he swallows and replies coolly, “Nonsense, Your Majesty. I am managing quite well. I see to all of Noct’s needs in a timely manner, in addition to daily training with the glaives, and attending council meetings on the prince’s behalf.” 

“My son is eighteen—I'm afraid we’ve spoiled him just a little too much. He may still be in school, but it’s time for him to sit in more of these drab gatherings in person.” 

“Regis,” coughs Clarus, slightly offended. 

“Well, they _are_,” confesses the king. 

Ignis smirks a little—he can see where Noctis gets it from. “Regardless of whether or not Noct shoulders some of the meeting responsibilities, I can assure you that I am not having trouble balancing my duties, sir. You entrusted Noct’s care to me—if I am underperforming in any capacity, please give me a chance to prove myself further.” 

Regis chuckles again. “You’ve proved yourself ten times over, Ignis—I just wanted to give you a chance to breathe. Give her a few months, and if she doesn’t adequately lighten your load, then you win, and you can continue as you have been.” 

Ignis blinks in silence for several seconds, clears his throat. “Her?” 

“Your assistant, Miss __________ __________. I took the liberty of having her personal effects moved into your office this morning.” 

_ Ah—explains why I was brought here first thing, instead of being allowed to go to my office. _Ignis frowns slightly, but nods. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” 

“Don’t be too hard on her, my boy. Remember, she’s there to help you. Even you cannot be in two places at once.” Regis leans back in his chair, looking smug.

Ignis sniffs haughtily. “Yes, well.” He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s annoyed, and he knows that Regis knows—the king isn’t stupid. But Ignis decides to humor him for a little while, and prove that he’s _not _slipping in his duties. He’s been doing this since he was...what, seven years old? Eight? His whole life has been about Noctis; Regis _is _correct in saying that Noct could start going to a few more of these meetings, but that wouldn’t change much—Ignis would still have to be there, anyway. He’s older, can sometimes understand things that Noct can’t. And not that the prince is stupid, but they process information differently—and how helpful would it be for them to truly be able to bounce policy ideas off of each other? It’s been so one-sided up until now. Ignis smiles a bit. “I look forward to telling Noct about his newly required attendance policy.” 

Regis laughs big and loud. “Yes, please let me know how well he takes it.” The king winks. “You’re dismissed, Ignis. Keep up the good work. And remember, this is for your own good. You cannot pour from an empty cup. We all care for you deeply. We want to make sure you aren’t spreading yourself too thin.” 

Ignis nods politely. “I appreciate Your Majesty’s concern.” He turns, nods to Clarus. “Lord Amicitia.” 

Clarus makes eye contact and nods his head, grunts, then goes back to sifting through the piles of papers surrounding him. 

Ignis shuts the door to Regis’ office and exhales deeply, speed-walking to the elevator that will take him to his office floor. He whips out his phone once he’s in there, opening up the group chat he shares with Gladio and Noctis. 

“Traitors, the lot of you,” he types. He slips his phone into his blazer pocket and doesn’t even bother to check the incessant buzzing that comes less than a minute later. He glides down the long corridor, withdraws his key, and opens his office. 

_________________ 

You’re sitting on the plush velvet chaise inside the cleanest office you’ve ever seen in your life. There are floor-to ceiling shelves on three of the walls, lined with books both old and new. Ignis’ desk is in front of one such shelf, computer and piles of papers and pencil cups all organized perfectly. There was only one wall free of books or anything else—your desk was minimalist and small, and the glaives that had helped you move had dropped it there, and your anxiety wasn’t about to move it anywhere else without permission. All of your things were still in boxes on top of your desk and on the floor—but you’d turned your laptop on and sent a request to join Ignis’ shared document platform, so you could be privy to his files in order to better assist him. Truth be told, you’re pretty intimidated. You’d seen him plenty, but you were sure that he didn’t know—or care—who you were. You are determined to just do your best and lay low, to just stay out of his way. If he said jump, you were going to immediately ask how high. 

And jumping you are—at the key that is now turning in the lock. The door swings open, and Ignis Scientia walks through the door, peering at you through thin, silver-framed glasses. You swallow thickly, torn between just sitting there and gazing at his gorgeous green eyes, his chiseled physique, his dripping sex appeal; and getting up and introducing yourself like a goddamn normal person. You shake your head and make yourself move. _C’mon, feet. _Ignis asked for an assistant, not a lovesick puppy. “Uh, um,” you start. _Fabulous. _“Hi, Mr. Scientia, I’m ___________. Uh, the...the glaives put my desk over there, hope that’s okay...it seemed to be out of the way, and that’s what I want to be...out of the way...until you need me, anyway, heh heh.” You stare at the floor, sweating bullets. Why was talking so _difficult _? You finally steel your resolve and meet Ignis’ intense gaze. 

Ignis is tight-lipped—and what a shame, because his lips look like they were molded by the Astrals themselves—with his jaw set firmly, arms folded, eyes burning a hole through your clothes, your skin, your soul. The man looks like he’s two seconds away from killing you with the two giant daggers that you know he uses as weapons—and honestly, you think, you’d rather him slice you like butter and get it over with than for him to continue looking at you like you’re the scum of the earth. Ignis looks like he’s deliberating on what to say. He clears his throat, finally, and untangles his arms, holding out his right hand, which is clad in a silver leather glove. “Nice to meet you. I do hope you can keep up.” 

You tentatively curl your hand around his and pump it firmly—Ignis drops his hand first. Fuck, his hand is so warm—you'd wish you could hold it under different circumstances. Ignis ignores the hurt look on your face as he peels off his blazer and walks to his desk, draping the blazer over the back of his office chair. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders back, flexes his upper body. 

It’s taking everything in you not to stare and drool. Shit. Why didn’t he just kill you when he walked through the door? The curse of being an empath was that you were more in tune with others’ emotions more than what was physically healthy—and you knew when you weren’t wanted. However, your appointment to Ignis’ side was made personally by the king himself—and if there’s anyone you didn’t want to disappoint more than Ignis, it was Regis Lucis Caelum. Sighing, you shake your head and walk over to your sparsely-decorated desk, gathering your laptop in your arms and walking back over to Ignis. 

He blinks up at you. “What?” 

You wince—his voice is pure ire. “Look--okay, I know you probably don’t want me here, and I don’t want to get in your way, but I’m here to help—so...so you don’t have to be so mean about it,” you murmur, half-wondering if calling him out was going to make him angrier. 

Ignis sighs. “This is temporary arrangement to placate His Majesty. I am _not _in need of any assistance, least of all yours,” he says with finality. 

“Right, yeah, cool. Temporary, I gotcha. I don’t want to be in your hair longer than necessary.” You pause and slide your laptop on his desk. “So I’ve requested to join your DocuShare profile. Y’know, so I can see what we’re working with.” You click another button, and open up a calendar. “I also thought we could merge calendars, so that I know your schedule.” 

Ignis blinks silently, and is genuinely taken aback. He didn’t expect you to actually be so gung-ho about inching your way into his life. “I’ll send you my calendar and accept your documents request,” he says quickly, trying to ignore how close you’ve gotten to him. “But what you can help me with immediately is...” 

“Yes, tell me! What can I do?” You’re jumping at the chance to impress him. 

“...Is get me coffee,” Ignis finishes. “From the Ebony Roasters café across the street. I’ll take a venti flat white, extra foam.” 

Your shoulders droop as you frown and turn, dropping your laptop on your desk and grabbing your purse. “Is that all?” 

“Yes, quite. Run along,” Ignis says with a wave of his hand, eyes not leaving some stack of papers that have caught his interest. 

You roll your eyes and huff, sliding out of the adviser’s office and half-jogging down the long hallway. As you approach the elevator, you notice another sort-of familiar face—the ever-imposing Gladiolus Amicitia, the prince’s personal shield. You avoid eye contact but give a little half-bow as you pass him, whispering a polite greeting, hoping that he would pay you no mind. Gods know you’ve already had one embarrassing encounter with a gorgeous man today—you didn’t need a second. 

But alas, the Astrals have a cruel sense of humor. 

“Wait up,” says the human behemoth, turning. 

You stop dead in your tracks. “Sorry! I’m sorry if I offended you, sir...” 

Gladio’s honey eyes are shining bright with recognition, and he’s walking right up to you, placing a huge, warm hand on your shoulder. “You’re __________, aren’t you? Iggy’s new secretary.” 

You scoff quietly. “Sure. Though probably a more apt description is ‘Iggy’s new pain-in-the-ass.’” 

Gladio booms, wiping an actual tear from his eye—but when he doesn’t find any shared amusement, his face goes rigid. “Wait—you’re serious? He doesn’t like you? He _ said _ that?” 

“More or less.” You shrug, clearing your throat to imitate his high Tenebraen accent. “_This is temporary arrangement to placate His Majesty. I am not in need of any assistance, least of all yours__.” _You avert your eyes and look to the floor. “So interpret _that _how you will.” 

Gladio’s handsome face is all red and contorted. “That little...I can’t believe him. And here I was coming to greet the two of you and talk about the princess’—sorry, Noct’s—schedule, so that you can get filled in and we can tell you what needs to get done on the regular.” Gladio pauses. “So what are you doing leaving, anyway?” 

“Oh, I’m useful for getting coffee, apparently,” you huff. “He didn’t complain that I was around to do _that_.” 

Gladio grits his teeth. “That’s it, I’m going to kill him. Noct is gonna have to find a new adviser.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t—it’s okay, really. I didn’t expect to be liked, anyway. Ignis probably thinks everyone else is incompetent except for him.” 

Gladio rolls his eyes and nods. “Known the guy for over a decade now. He hasn’t changed much. Doesn’t like to admit he’s wrong—and that’s because he’s never really wrong, which is _super _annoying, believe me. And he has a tendency to not let anyone know when, or if, he needs help. Princess and I went behind his back and talked to Regis, and that’s how you got stuck with him, I guess.” 

You chuckle quietly. “Imagine my surprise when the king comes down to the urban development office and asks the minister for his best administrative assistant. Lucky me, I guess.” You shrug. “Anyway. He’s determined to prove that he doesn’t need my help, so...temporary, like Ignis said. It’s fine. I can deal for a couple of months or whatever.” 

Gladio shakes his head in defeat. He thought Ignis would know better than to get so angry over this—and worse yet, to take it out on a _woman_. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go get the prickly pear his coffee. Let me walk with you. I’ll buy.” 

“Oh good. I’m guessing I was expected to pay...it’s not like he gave me any money.” 

“Unbelievable!” 

Ignis is twenty pages in to a border patrol report when the office door opens. He glances at his watch—it's been thirty minutes. _Can this woman not even get coffee in a competent manner? _He looks up, and is not pleased when Gladio strides in, holding coffee and a breakfast sandwich in his hands. 

“Sup Iggy,” he says smoothly. 

Ignis peers around Gladio to you—you're setting your own coffee cup on your desk and taking the box down, dropping your purse on the floor so you can start getting your corner of the office in order. “I suppose I have you to blame for my wait,” says Ignis curtly. 

“Oh, yeah, I caught this cute girl in the hallway. Says she’s being enslaved by some tyrant in glasses. You wouldn’t know anything about that, wouldja?” Gladio winks. 

Ignis rolls his eyes and audibly sighs. “You’re incorrigible,” he snaps as he takes the coffee and boxed sandwich from the shield’s hands; but then his face softens slightly. “At any rate, thank you for the food. I had almost forgotten that I hadn’t eaten yet.” 

“Oh, I’m just the delivery boy. Thank her,” Gladio motions with his head over his shoulder. “It was her idea. Gesture of goodwill and all, I guess. You know, you could be a little nicer. This isn’t her fault. I’m sure she’d rather be anywhere else than trapped in a room with _you _all day.” 

“I’m right here!” you call. “Gladio, you’re not helping.” 

“He never does—at least we can agree on _that_,” chides Ignis. 

Gladio only laughs. 

“I’m quite cross with you, and don’t forget it,” Ignis says after a sip of his Ebony. He motions with his hand. “This is all your fault, anyway. And Noct’s.” 

“Right, but it’s not like you can stay mad at princess for long. It’s okay, I can take it. Just try to ease up a little, yeah? Give her a chance. She really wants to try for you.” 

“Again—right here,” you call as you arrange your small collection of terrariums on the far corner of your desk. You dig an in/out letter tray, a cup of pens, a stapler, a tape dispenser, chocobo plush, and your laptop charger out of the box and set it behind your desk, moving to your chair. Gladio’s and Ignis’ voices have become low in the back of your mind, your expert ability to tune people out coming into play. After you finish arranging your measly collection of office supplies, you drag the other box to your side, opening up the bottom desk drawer to the empty filing rack. You sense a presence, and look up to see Gladio hovering over your desk, inspecting your terrariums. 

“These are real fuckin’ cute,” he says through a soft smile. 

“You think? I thought so too. Been building a little collection.” You shrug as you side-bend back and forth, moving stuffed folders from the box to the file drawer. 

“Hey,” says Gladio firmly. 

You pause and stare up at him. Gods, he’s so handsome, in a completely different way than Ignis—even the scar that runs the length of the left side of his face only adds to his rugged, hunky appearance. “Yeah?” You hope that he misses the blush that you can feel rising to your cheeks. 

“Don’t let him get to you. He gets too pissy, you tell me, all right? You don’t deserve anything that he dishes out.” 

You nod, peering around Gladio’s massive form to witness Ignis with the breakfast sandwich in one hand, eyes glued to his computer monitor. If Ignis hears any of the current exchange, he’s choosing to ignore it. 

“Promise?” the shield asks. 

You meet his gaze again and relax a little. Perhaps Ignis has just had a bad day—you get that. Everyone has bad days. “Yeah, Gladio. Thanks.” 

He smiles widely and leans down, dropping his voice. “If his panties get too twisted, you could always use your feminine charms on him, if you know what I mean.” Gladio winks. 

Your jaw drops a little, and you feel yourself grow redder. “Wha...dude, seriously. I don’t...I don’t wanna be known as the office _tart_, or whatever. Besides—” you gesture to your body—“I’m not exactly the kind of girl guys slobber over, y’know. Pretty sure when they were handing out the ‘feminine charms,’ they skipped over me. That definitely wouldn’t work on someone like him.” You shrug. “I’ll be okay. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out, and I go back to the urban development office and there’s just one more person in the Citadel who thinks I’m dumb.” 

Gladio opens and closes his mouth a few times but doesn’t respond, only frowning slightly as he stands up right and sweeps another glance across your desk, eyes falling on the chunky chocobo plush. “You like chocobos?” 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. They’re cute. I haven’t been out to the ranch in a few years, but I was thinking that on my next vacation I would...” 

“Are you going to sit there and flirt with Gladiolus all day, or are you actually going to do what you’ve been assigned to do?” Ignis snaps from across the room. “Gladio, please leave. You’re distracting.” 

“Geez, kill a guy for trying to make a new friend.” Gladio rolls his eyes as his large fingers fall away from the toy. “See ya sweetheart. Don’t let Iggy work too hard.” 

You let out a hollow laugh. “If he lets me help, I’ll try.” 

___________ 

Friday morning, you slog into Ignis’ office, already dreading the day. It hasn’t even been a full week and already you’ve spilled coffee on high council meeting minutes, ran twenty minutes late picking up Noct’s suit from the dry cleaners, and Ignis has subtly insulted your fashion choices at least three times. Sighing, you put the key in the lock and turn it, opening up the dark oak door to see Ignis already seated on the couch with none other than the prince himself, stacks of papers scattered on the coffee table. You’d only ever seen the prince once before, in person—but he’s grown up so fast, and the realization hits you like a ton of bricks. 

Noctis is_ stupidly _attractive, and you swallow hard, forcing yourself to look down and away as you slip inside the room and hurry over to your desk. 

“Hey,” says the young royal, lazily. “You must be ____________. Thanks for helping Iggy out.” 

Ignis mumbles something like _If only she were actually doing that_, but pays you no mind as he shoves another paper in front of Noctis. 

You seat yourself at your desk and hyperfocus on your computer and the planner that’s open to today’s date. _Border Patrol Meeting Today, 8 am _it says. You pull your phone from your dress pocket and check the time—it's just now 7 am. You place your phone on your desk and throw your purse to the floor, looking up at Ignis and Noctis on the couch. 

“Ignis,” you start, voice cracking just a little. “If you have other stuff to do, I can attend the border patrol meeting today.” 

Ignis makes an affronted noise, as though someone has just told him that the sky is neon yellow. “Yes, wouldn’t that be something.” He doesn’t look up, merely hands Noctis another piece of paper and points something out to him. 

Noct, however, lowers his hands and looks to Ignis, then to you, then back to Ignis, who’s doing a good job of ignoring you, like always. “Hey, Specs, I mean—we're still trying to sort out these reports from the other day. She should go for us. It’s kinda her job, yeah?” Noct rolls his neck and yawns. 

“Highness, I did not allow you to miss classes to sit and dawdle in my office all day. It would behoove us both to be in attendance. Your father will be there, after all.” 

“Yeah, and? My dad’s at a lot of shit that neither of us are at.” 

“Hardly,” retorts Ignis. “I can count on one hand the number of meetings I’ve missed in the past month.” 

“And that’s why the king hired me!” Feeling a strange sense of bravado in front of the prince, you slam your hand on the desk and stand, finally forcing Ignis to turn his pretty green eyes in your direction. “Shit, Ignis, just—let me do this, all right!” You snap your mouth shut, unplug your laptop and shove it into your work bag that’s under your desk. Without waiting for either of them to react, you storm back to the door and fling it open. 

“It’s, uh, in the east wing,” calls Noctis, before the door shuts. 

Ignis sighs as soon as you’re out of the room. “I can’t keep doing this, Noct. I appreciate your concern, however misguided it might be. But I’m _fine. _I’ve managed quite well thus far. This is a disaster. I don’t need her. I don’t need _anyone._” 

Noctis sighs and sets the report down, dark blue eyes drifting over to your desk, eyes lighting up when he sees the chocobo plush. “That’s such a cute chocobo. I should ask her where she got it, get one for Prompto.” 

“_Highness_,” Ignis seethes. 

“Why do you hate her so much?” 

“She’s completely incompetent! She’s clumsy, and it takes her an _age _to complete any sort of simple task. She should carry around a damn plant for all the oxygen she wastes. She’s chronically late. Her sense of fashion is horrendous. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Need I go on?” Ignis scribbles a note in the margins of a report and sets it aside. 

Noctis stares slack-jawed at his adviser. He’s seen Ignis mad, but he’s never heard his adviser talk this away about anyone other than the delegates from the empire. 

“I’d just as soon supplicate myself before Emperor Aldercapt of Niflheim,” Ignis continues, unaware of Noct’s staring. 

“You stay here.” Noct rises from the couch. “I’m going to the meeting.” 

“I should be there.” 

“No.” Noct’s voice is soft, but firm, and dripping with a lazy sort of authority that he only uses when he’s meeting with crusty old high council members or foreign envoys. “Stay here, finish what we started. I’ll be back.” He meets Ignis’ stunned gaze. “I’m disappointed in you, Ignis. You’re really showing your ass. I’m not in the mood to be around it right now. See ya later.” 

And with that, Ignis is left alone with his work, and his thoughts. “Bloody hell,” the adviser sighs, putting his head in his hands. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If niceness were a scale, Ignis has gone from a -0.0000005 to a -0.00005, so you're thinking that's kind of some progress, anyway. You realize that Ignis isn't universally liked by his peers; and Gladio manages to wrangle a confession out of you.

“So they gave the servant a servant? What will they think of next?” 

The offhand comment catches you completely off guard. You’re in the mail room, gathering Ignis’ mail and making copies on the large industrial copier. “It’s easier for Noct to read the reports when they’re bound like a book,” Ignis had said—so here you were, copying meeting minutes and urban development proposals and refugee policies onto a thicker cardstock, with the intent of securing them in soft binders, so that Noctis could read them more easily. Noctis was accompanying you more and more to the meetings, and you found yourself getting to know the prince a little better, despite Ignis’ every attempt to shut you out of his life. 

Oh, right. The comment. You mind floats back to the present as you hear the offending voice continue, “That Scientia thinks he’s hot shit just ‘cause he’s in the prince’s personal retinue, but he’s just like everyone else. Don’t know where he gets off thinking that he’s so high and mighty.” 

“You’re absolutely right,” says the second voice. “And did you see who they got to be his assistant? ___________ from urban development and housing.” 

“Gods, do we need to put up a _help wanted _sign on the bloody front door? We must really be hurting for low-tier clerks around here.” 

The two voices continue to gossip and snicker between themselves—but by the time you finish making copies for Noctis, they’re gone. You grab the supplies you need to assemble the reports into books and scurry to an elevator, thanking the gods that you don’t pass anyone else on your way back to Ignis’ office. 

You slip inside quietly—Ignis is on the phone, receiver cradled between his head and his shoulder, one hand making notes, the other squeezing a nondescript stress ball. He doesn’t make eye contact at all as you walk to your desk and dump the papers and empty binders on it, knocking the chocobo plush from its usual spot. You sigh—and make no move to pick it up as you begin to sort the stacks. 

Ignis hangs up the phone a few minutes later. You feel his intense gaze at you as you continue your work, but you make no acknowledgement of him. Without either of you realizing it, a month has already passed. Ignis has softened just slightly; as in, he no longer makes a remark at how long it takes you to get his coffee in the mornings, so you consider that a win, anyway. The silence in the office is almost deafening, but you work in repetitive motion, securing each report or official document into the clear floppy binders and putting them in the empty cardboard box that you haven’t gotten around to throwing away just yet. 

A flash of movement—and the toy is back on top of your desk, in its respective place. You blink up at Ignis, who has already turned away. He’s in a black and white pinstripe shirt today, blazer off to reveal suspenders holding up his pleated black slacks. His signature leather gloves are folded neatly on his desk. He walks over to one of his bookshelves and removes a small leather-bound book, sitting on the velvet chaise with all the fluid motion of a cat. You look from him back to your chocobo toy, and allow yourself a small smile. 

“Hey, Ignis—these documents for Noctis. I’m done,” you say as you place the last one—a new refugee/immigrant proposal—in the box. 

Ignis makes no reply. 

You look up—the adviser is asleep sitting up, novel in hand, glasses slid down his nose. You can’t help but stare—it's a shame he’s so rough around the edges; because truly, he’s one of the most stunning specimens of a man that you’d ever had the pleasure to be around. The lights in the office are dim, accent lighting coming only from the small moogle-shaped lamp on your desk, and a few floor lamps scattered around. The shadows dance along Ignis’ sharp jaw and smooth neck, and you unashamedly find yourself licking your lips and drooling, just a smidge. It’s probably crazy for you to be so physically attracted to a man that has not minced words about how he does _not _want you around and would be rather nonplussed if you dropped off the face of Eos altogether—but a girl is allowed to have fantasies after all, right? And plus, hate-sex is totally a thing...or maybe you’ve just read too many fanfictions. 

Your phone buzzes, bringing you out of your shameless ogling—there’s a new notification from your dating app, but the time is what catches your eye—it's almost three o’clock, which means that Noctis is almost out of school. You look from your phone to the dozing Ignis, and make a snap decision—the man needs sleep, and you’re more than capable of driving twenty minutes to the high school and back, right? You put your laptop in rest mode, gather your phone and purse, and slip quietly out of the door. 

You arrive outside of the school just as the bell rings; you’re not sure if the prince will recognize your beat-up old car, so you get out and move to the passenger’s side, leaning up against the door and watching for a head of spiky black hair moving through the throng of students. You spot Noctis a few minutes later, with another boy around his height and build, blond and freckled, uniform infinitely more rumpled than Noct’s. You’re guessing that’s the famous Prompto you’ve heard so much about. You catch Noct’s eye as he looks from Prompto up to the sidewalk, scanning for Ignis and his usual car. You wave, and Noct raises and eyebrow, but he approaches you anyway, Prompto hanging back a step. 

“Hey Noctis,” you say casually. 

“Ignis so busy that he couldn’t come pick me up today?” 

You chuckle. “Well, uh. I made an executive decision that he’ll probably kill me for. He fell asleep reading and I just didn’t want to wake him. And I didn’t want you to be late for your training at the Citadel.” You peer around to where Prompto is looking at his phone, shuffling his feet. “Is this the famous Prompto that I’ve heard so much about?” 

Prompto looks up from his phone and almost drops it; he fumbles and catches it, and turns away, blushing. “Uh, yeah! That’s me, um. Prompto. Prompto Argentum.” 

“Nice to meet you,” you grin. He’s so shy—it's pretty adorable. “I’m __________ __________, Ignis’ assistant.” You turn to Noctis. “So, am I taking you home, or to the Citadel? Sorry, I don’t remember what’s on your schedule for today. But! I did spend all day assembling those reports and documents into the folders like Ignis said you wanted. So it’s easier for you to carry them around and read through them.” 

Noct’s deep blue eyes sparkle with gratitude. “Oh, wow. That’s cool. Thank you. Uh,” the prince falters as he pulls out his own phone to flip through the calendar. “Training with Gladio at four today. So Citadel it is.” 

You nod and open the back passenger door for the prince, and he slides in. 

“Prom, you coming?” 

“Hu-huh? Me? Oh, I was gonna go home, maybe _try _to work on that history paper...” 

Noctis shrugs. “We can work on it later at my place. Come watch me kick Gladio’s ass.” 

Prompto flicks anxious eyes from Noctis to you, and you shrug. “I have no say in anything whatsoever. Do what he says,” you say with a chuckle. 

Prompto shrugs and climbs into your back seat. You shut the door and round the car, slide in the driver’s seat and pull away from the school. 

Five minutes later, the King’s Knight theme blares from your charging phone in the cupholder. 

“Hey, three guesses as to who _that _is,” you laugh as you grab the phone and swipe it. 

“How—why—bloody hell, you daft thing, why did you let me take a _nap _in the middle of the day?” 

You wince. Ignis is loud, and Ignis is _pissed. _“I’m sorry, Ignis. You just looked so peaceful, and I know you were up late, I was just trying to look out for you...” 

“I do not _need _to be looked after.” He pauses. “Where are you? I’m already late for picking Noct up from school.” 

Ignis isn’t just angry—he's embarrassed, and you’re intuitively aware that it’s not an emotion that he’s used to feeling. “Hey, no worries! I’m headed back to the Citadel now, royal cargo in tow.” 

“His Highness is in _your _car? You’re on the _highway _with him? Astrals help me,” Ignis mutters. “I swear to you, if one hair on his head is harmed...” 

“You’ll kill me ten different ways with just your pinky, I know. You’ve threatened me before.” Although you make a show of rolling your eyes, you shiver just a little. You know it’s true. 

“Where’s Noct? Let me speak with him.” 

“Roger that.” You lower the phone and bend your arm back. “Hey, Noctis. Ignis wants to speak to you.” 

“Ugh,” says Noctis, and Prompto chuckles. The prince takes your phone and barely utters “Yeah?” before you hear Ignis’ stern voice on the other end. He finishes his tirade after a couple of minutes, and you hear your phone clatter back in the cupholder. 

“Everything okay?” you look in the rearview mirror. Prompto’s engrossed in his phone, and Noct is staring out of the window, arms folded. 

“I’m really sorry about him,” says Noctis quietly. “When I told dad that I thought he was doing too much, and maybe needed help with some stuff, I never imagined he’d take it so rough. Or that he’d be so mean, especially to someone as nice and as helpful as you.” 

Prompto blinks up. “Wait,” he says. “Ignis doesn’t like you? He’s mean?” 

You shrug. “It’s understandable. I’m encroaching on his territory. He feels threatened. My existence wounds his pride.” 

“Oh,” whispers Prompto. “I think you’re pretty cool. Hey, uh, your ringtone...wanna trade King’s Knight friend codes?” 

“Sure!” You check your mirrors and turn on your blinker to switch lanes. “Grab my phone and bring up the app, Prompto.” 

“Hey, I’m gonna send you one from me too,” says Noctis with a small smile. 

You nod and continue driving, leaving the boys to navigate your phone in comfortable silence. 

_________ 

“This is a shopping list for Noct,” says Ignis curtly. “You are not to deviate from brand or quantity of items. Do I make myself clear?” 

You take the list and fold it, putting it in your purse. There’s non-stop meetings today that Regis has asked Noctis to attend, so he’s taken the day off of school. Ignis hesitantly hands you the spare key to Noct’s apartment, along with a list of precise written instructions on what to cook and how to cook it; and what to clean and how to clean it. There are explicit instructions not to let Prompto in, if he shows up—but you have a feeling that you’ll have to ignore that part...it’s _really _hard to say no to Prompto’s pretty puppy-dog eyes and innocent voice. You’d been vetted and allowed to chaperone the boys at a few arcade outings over the past few weeks, and honestly, you loved hanging out with Noctis and seeing him in his element. Even though you were a little older—same as Ignis, aged twenty to the prince’s eighteen—you still enjoyed many of the same things that he and Prompto did. 

Ignis was resigned that he wouldn’t be out of the meetings until late tonight, and actually admitted that having a someone at Noct’s to clean and cook a few meals wasn’t such a bad idea after all—though you had a feeling that Ignis would be more inclined to the idea if he could just clone himself than to ask you to do it, but tough shit. You were here and available and damned if you weren’t still trying to prove to Ignis that you weren’t a waste of space. 

“Don’t worry, Ignis. I think I can handle it.” 

“I bloody hope so,” Ignis retorts. He turns to Noctis, who has threatened to fall alseep on the office chaise. “Highness, up. The meeting is in forty minutes and your father requests an audience beforehand.” 

Noctis bristles—he's in a mood, you can tell. It makes you draw inward into yourself—angry Ignis is bad enough and puts your daily anxiety into overdrive, but when Noctis is pissy, it really makes you feel small. “If my father wanted me, he can come _summon _me himself,” Noct spits, eyes closed under furrowed brows. 

“_Noctis_.” Ignis’ tone makes you back away, closer to your desk. You do a cursory scan, making sure you’re not leaving anything. You give your chocobo a light squeeze and rearrange your terrariums; suddenly, you feel a warm body close behind you. 

“Been meaning to ask you,” says Noctis, voice heavy with fatigue. “Where’d you get the chocobo? Prompto loves them more than life itself. Wanted to get him one.” 

“Oh, that’s cute! Uh, I’ll send you the link on King’s Knight chat. I think I remember the online shop I found it on.” 

“Thanks.” The prince claps a hand on your shoulder, and turns. “All right Iggy, let’s go.” Noctis shuffles the report binder—the one that you’d made him—to his other arm and follows Ignis out of the office. 

You finish the shopping in a little over an hour, and let yourself into Noct’s high-rise. The place _definitely _looks like an eighteen year-old's bachelor pad. You kick off your shoes and hang up your purse, and start to work on putting away the groceries. You dig Ignis’ recipe list from your pocket and cook the meals to the best of your ability; then get to work cleaning every inch of the apartment. Some hours later, as you’re stripping Noct’s giant king bed, you hear the front door open. Confident that you’d locked it behind you, you’re not really worried about it being a break-in; you shuffle into the living room, arms full of sheets, to face Gladio, who’s kicking off his boots and hanging up his jacket. The man is in sweatpants and nothing else once his athletic hoodie is on the coat rack. You let yourself stare for a few shameless seconds before he turns to you and smiles. He’s been working on getting more of his tattoo filled in, and it’s almost finished. It looks delicious against his buff, bronze skin, and you sigh in defeat. The Astrals really were trying to kill you by surrounding you with gorgeous, unattainable men. 

“Do you like, ever wear a shirt, ever?” You turn and pad to the laundry room to dump in the sheets and start the washer. 

Gladio chuckles deeply as he follows you to the laundry room. He watches as you fiddle with the settings, add the detergent—and when you turn around, he places his hand beside you on the washer and leans forward, effectively trapping you between the machine and his body. You blink up at him with a curious gaze. 

“Can I help you?” you ask lightly, not sure how to read the situation. Gladio doesn’t scare you, but he can be intimidating, even if he is always a perfect gentleman towards you. 

“Do you wanna go out on a date with me?” His amber eyes give you a once-over, making you shiver. 

You’re pretty sure what said _date _would consist of—and although you wouldn’t be opposed to a romp with Gladio, you’re getting the impression that he’s wanting more than a one-night stand. “Oh—Gladio, I’m...I’m sorry,” you look down and away, and feel your face growing red. “There’s...there’s already...” 

“Someone else,” Gladio sighs as he leans back and folds his arms across his broad chest. “Figures someone like you wouldn’t be single for long.” He smiles, though. “Who is it sweetheart?” 

You gulp. “Well--it’s not, it’s not like that. We’re not together, shit, we’re not even _friends._..I don’t...I don’t know if I could tell you.” 

Gladio raises an eyebrow. “Well now my curiosity's peaked, baby. Do I know him?” 

You blush a little more and look into his eyes, hoping that he’ll guess so you don’t have to tell him. 

“What, you in love with the royal pain in the ass?” 

You laugh. “What, Noctis? Gods no. I mean, he’s cute. Can I say that? Is that treason?” 

Gladio chuckles. “That’s pretty mild compared to some of the blogs that are solely dedicated to his ass.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Wish I was,” Gladio gruffs. “Both me and Iggy are on constant damage control, always trying to get unauthorized pictures of Noct off the internet.” He unfolds his arms and plants them on his hips, lips curling into a smirk. “Back to the subject at hand.” 

“Oh, uh...” 

“You sure you can’t just tell me?” 

“You’ll think I’m stupid. And I don’t want him to know.” 

“I won’t. I promise.” 

You shake your head and close your eyes, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“How tall is he?” 

“Uh,” you exhaled slowly. “Almost as tall as you. Like maybe a few inches shorter.” 

“Skinny?” 

“I mean, not rail-thin. Lean, though.” 

“Green eyes? Glasses?” You hear the change in Gladio’s tone and press your fingers to your eyes as you start to sniff. 

“Fuck, Gladio, I...” 

“I knew it. It _is _Iggy.” Gladio sighs. “What is it with women and pining after someone they can’t have?” 

“I have no sense of self-preservation,” you mutter as you meet his gaze again. He looks—fuck, he looks almost _sorry_. “Don’t pity me, all right? It’s fine. I’m a big girl.” 

“I like you. I can’t stand to see you have a broken heart.” Gladio frowns. “I swear, if he continues to treat you like shit, I’m going to intervene. Like, _really_. Why do you let him get away with it?” 

“I mean, I pop back sometimes, but he has gotten kinda better, a little, I mean...” You shrug. “I have anxiety, okay? And a crippling fear of authority. And the king asked me to do this, to be there for Ignis, and I know I’m not that smart, or pretty, but I’m trying my hardest, but...but it’s never good enough...” The tears are falling consistently, now. 

Gladio sniffs and pulls you into a hug. He’s warm and his skin is so soft, and his strong arms envelope you as you break down in the prince’s laundry room. You calm down a few minutes later and pull away, wiping your eyes. 

“What can I do to make you feel better?” Gladio’s voice is soft, and his gaze is full of compassion. 

You shrug again. “I dunno. Unless you can convince Ignis that I’m not the scum of the earth. Which will probably take divine intervention.” 

“So like, is this just a crush? Or is this like...you’re legimately in love?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s love—not yet—but, um. It’s a pretty heavy crush. I’m pretty sure he knows I’m staring at him every spare second.” 

“He’s handsome, right? At least we know your eyes aren’t broken.” Gladio smirks again. “What do you imagine him doing to you?” 

Your eyes go wide and you feel your face flushing. “Why are you...?” 

“Just curious,” Gladio chuckles. “You think about him bending you over his desk, fucking you all over those stupid council reports? Or are you on your knees under his desk, choking on his cock while he’s on the phone?” 

You shudder, but Gladio holds your gaze and doesn’t look away. You feel yourself nodding, just slightly. 

“Does he talk dirty to you? Does he call you a filthy slut? Does he order you to wear short skirts and dresses without any panties so that he can feel you up anytime he wants? Does he keep his gloves on while he fingers you?” 

You close your eyes and grip the washing machine. You can already feel yourself getting wet as Gladio voices your deepest fantasies that you know will never come to fruition. “Fuck, Gladio, it’s...it’s just not fair.” 

Gladio sighs. “Damn right it ain’t. He doesn’t deserve you—at least not right now. Not when he’s been acting like such an asshole.” 

You shake your head. “We may not be friends, but I respect him _ so _ much. He’s so smart, and loyal, and...” You open your eyes to meet Gladio’s soft gaze again. “I mean, even if we were like, friends...he’d never think I was pretty. Or someone worth dating. Or even fucking, even if it was just once.” 

“Sweetheart.” Gladio reaches one of his big hands out and caresses the side of your face. “You’re...you’re beautiful.” 

You snort in laughter. “I think you need to try on Ignis’ glasses.” 

Gladio frowns and shakes his head. “I’m serious. You may not see it, but I do—for what it’s worth.” 

You swallow hard. “Well—thanks, Gladio. I really do value you as a friend, y’know. So thanks. It means a lot.” 

“Hey, you wanna try something?” 

“We are _not _fake-dating,” you laugh as his hand falls from your face. “This isn’t a fanfiction, this is real life.” 

“Nah, wasn’t gonna say that. But if it’s okay with you...let me be a little more affectionate to see if I can make Ignis jealous.” 

“No kissing,” you retort. 

“Cheek?” 

You puff out your cheeks in thought. “Well...okay. What else are we talking about?” 

“Me being overtly flirty? Buying you coffee? Or maybe even flowers? Chocolate?” 

“That sounds like fake dating to me, dude.” 

“Just coffee then, lunch.” 

“Flowers on my birthday are acceptable.” 

“Calling you at random times just to say hi?” 

You giggle. “Ignis’ll yell at me for being on the phone so much.” 

“In-person visits, then. After training.” 

“Ew, when you’re all sweaty and gross!” You’re really laughing, now. You look up at Gladio and smile. “Okay. I’m willing to take a little more platonic attention. But Ignis is probably going to kill you. Or me. Or both of us.” 

“I’d like to see him try,” Gladio gruffs—but he smiles all the same. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Regis can continue to sustain a wall--but Ignis can't.
> 
> (Also third person POV here--it's just easier to do when I'm trying to get inside of multiple people's heads at once.)

“Of all the bloody...” Ignis sighs as he sees the sign in front of Ebony Roasters—_Closed __For __Renovations, Grand Re-Opening April 15. _“I suppose my emergency reserve of canned cold brew will have to do this morning,” he mutters to himself as he turns his car around. He thinks about calling ___________ to have her drive across town to the other café, but he decides not to bother, because that’ll just make her late, and she’s already been late three times in so many weeks. Ignis thinks he should really call the whole thing off, but...he has to begrudgingly admit that having a second hand, even if it’s not his usual perfection, is better than nothing. It _is _helpful when he’s working late at the Citadel and he knows that Noct’s apartment is getting cleaned and that his prince is getting fed healthy meals, and he’s checked; he’s gone in behind her and made sure that there were no extra junk foods in the fridge or the cabinet. He even tastes the food that she’d prepared, and it surprises him that she’s actually a pretty good cook. So he let himself soften up just a bit, no longer barking at her when handing her a list of chores or groceries—it's helpful that she’s competent in the home, at any rate. 

Ignis walks in to an empty office—he's long stopped expecting her at exactly 6:30 am, and gets to work. He finds himself looking up over the piles of paperwork at the empty desk as he works: the stupid chocobo plush and the weird little terrariums and that _damn cardboard box that she still hasn’t thrown away_\-- 

And his thoughts are interrupted by an intrusion at the door—Gladio comes in, in a tank top and sweatpants and a ball cap, and plops down on his chaise lounge with a thick, worn novel in hand. 

“Mornin’ Iggy,” he says casually. He looks to the other desk for a moment. “Where’s your sidekick?” 

“Perfectly _late_, as is the norm,” Ignis bristles as he adjusts his glasses and looks down at the paper in front of him and begins to highlight again. 

Gladio only hums and buries his nose in his book. 

After about twenty minutes, Ignis looks up. Gladio hasn’t moved. “Gladio, can I ask you why you’re here?” 

“What, I can’t hang out?” 

“We’re not _hanging out. _You’re interrupting my morning. I’m quite busy.” Ignis looks at the time on his computer screen. “Bloody hell, it’s after seven. I’m calling her.” Ignis picks up his phone, but as he’s scrolling for her number, the office door slams open in a fury, a rather disheveled and red-faced ___________ is standing there in a wrinkled denim dress and boots, brown paper bags tucked under her arm, two Ebony café coffee cups in hand. She looks as though she’s been crying, and her hair is a mess, and there’s a wet stain on the bust of her dress, and her lip starts to quiver as soon as she sees Ignis’ unimpressed stare. 

“I’m...I’m so _sorry_,” she starts to wail as Gladio gets up in a flash and goes to take the extra stuff she’s trying to carry along with her laptop bag and purse. “The Ebony over on Fourth Avenue was closed for renovations and so I had to drive all the way across town to the _other _one, and they didn’t make your flat white how you like it, so I had to ask them for a new one, which took even longer, and _my _coffee spilled on me as I was rushing, trying to get out of my car to come up here, and the sausage biscuits are probably cold by now, and I...” 

Ignis can only stare in awe as she bawls into Gladio, who’s holding one of the coffee cups and paper bags and hugging her with the other arm, shooting a pained glare at him as he just sits there like a bump on a log. He doesn’t say anything until she’s calmed down. He watches Gladio help her set everything on her desk without spilling it, helps her determine whose breakfast is whose; and only addresses her when she walks over to his desk, still shaking, bag of food and warm coffee cup in hand. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he’s already finished one can of Ebony this morning. 

“Any-_anyway _,” she sniffs. “Uh, here. Sorry I’m late. I’ll stay late to make up for it. There’s another budget meeting with the minister of finance today, yeah? I can attend that.” Her voice is quiet and small. _____________ looks down at her ample bosom and sighs. “I have a stain pen in my purse, it should get this out. At least my dress is dark.” She attempts a laugh but it falls flat. 

Ignis blinks, realizes that she’s still holding out the food. He takes it, hand gently brushing hers—and he doesn’t miss her little shiver that follows the contact. He really doesn’t know what to say—he's genuinely at a loss for words. He looks past her to Gladio, who’s got a curious expression on his face, a mixture of compassion and daring. Ignis knows better than to insult her right now, so he doesn’t. And he finds, strangely, that he doesn’t want to. “Thank you,” he says gently and sincerely, and the smile that spreads across her face when she realizes that he isn’t going to berate her suddenly blinds him. 

“You’re welcome!” she says, mood starting to lighten. She wipes her eyes and sniffs again, turning to go over to her own desk and start the day. 

Ignis watches with mixed emotion as Gladio pulls her in for a full hug, watches them chat and laugh for a bit—watches him kiss her on the top of the head as he pulls away. 

Gladio levels his gaze at Ignis and holds it as he backs out of the office. The door clicks, and they’re alone. 

Ignis watches her at her desk for a few long minutes—watches her scarf down the simple biscuit, watches her fiddle with her laptop, plugging it up and putting her phone on a cable that slots in the side; watches her almost squeeze the head off the chocobo plush in further attempt to calm down; watches her sip her coffee as she opens a planner and goes over notes, shifting through folders and the like. 

She looks up to find him staring—and blushes a little. “Coffee okay? I can go...make you another one in the break room on the fifth floor. Is your sandwich cold? I can go heat it up in the microwave...” She feels herself rambling but she can’t help it. Ignis is _so _handsome, and she’s desperate for his approval. 

Ignis shakes his head. He hasn’t even touched anything. “It’s perfect,” he says quietly, then he clears his throat, voice coming in a little stronger. “The minister of finance has called the budget meeting at twelve thirty, so I suggest you eat something before then. It’ll take no fewer than three hours.” 

___________ nods and fiddles with her phone, setting an alarm. “Do I need to do anything for Noct today?” 

Ignis shakes his head and goes back to his work. “Not particularly. If you can handle the minister of finance, that will be satisfactory. My training session with Gladio begins while you will be away, but should conclude around the same time. So come back here and don’t dawdle so that you can fill me in.” Ignis means to be firm in his words, but he finds the command lacking in its usual presence. Nevertheless, he hears a “Yes sir!” chirp from the other side of the room and it makes his blood run cold. _I must be getting sick, _Ignis thinks, and makes himself a note to stock up on vitamin C caplets. 

Ignis returns to his office late in the afternoon, disheveled and tired from his sparring with Gladio. Their fight was different today, somehow, but he can’t put his finger on how or why. Gladio came at him with unrestrained aggression—they're long past the point of using wooden and rubber weapons, and they’ve given each other more scrapes and bruises than they can each count—and Ignis blocked and dodged and fought back with equal fervor. They’re the only ones who share each other’s strength and stamina; even though Gladio is considerably bulkier, Ignis has a hidden strength that most don’t realize, something he uses to his advantage against the other glaives and new recruits. 

But Gladio knows all of his movements, the tricks he uses with his long, lean legs; the quick swipe of daggers, and the near pole-dance attacks with his polearm. After three hours of pinning each other to walls and mats and more subtle slices to tank tops, and a few potions and band-aids later, they meet again in the locker room after showering. Gladio’s begun to grow his hair out, and he has enough for a little half-bun at the top of his head, and he speaks as he’s pulling his wet hair into a hair tie. 

“Was pretty nice of ___________ to go all the way to the other side of the city to get breakfast for ya.” 

Ignis pauses, then puts on his glasses and shifts on his pants. “I suppose,” he muses quietly. “A nice gesture. One must wonder the reason.” 

“Oh Iggy,” Gladio chuckles as he puts on a clean tank top. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’,” Gladio smirks as he watches Ignis dress. 

“Well, what about—what about _you _?” There’s an edge to the question, and Ignis doesn’t really know what he’s asking. 

“What about me?” 

“You and __________. The two of you seem _quite _friendly. I’d ask you to consider your position—it won’t do for you to distract her. I _know _what you were doing in my office earlier this morning.” He stops. “Are you _together _?” 

Gladio only smiles a little—he's not so immature that he can’t handle gentle rejection, but it’s still a sore spot, knowing how badly ____________ wants the other man. “Nah,” Gladio shrugs. “She likes someone else. We’re just friends.” 

“Yet she’s comfortable with your particular brand of platonic affection?” 

The shield nods. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t she be? If I do anything that she doesn’t like, she’ll tell me to stop, and I’ll listen. We have our boundaries.” He smirks. “What’s it to ya?” 

“It’s _nothing _to me—I was only asking. If you’re dating my assistant, that’s information I find relevant. However, if you’re denying it, then there’s nothing further for me to care about.” Ignis folds his training clothes in his personal locker and closes it, resetting the combination lock to alternate numbers. He looks at his watch. “The budget meeting should be over, or just about. I’ll need to head back to discuss it with ____________.” 

“Aw, no post-training snack with my favorite nerd?” Gladio throws his arm around Ignis as they exit the training facility and make their way into the Citadel proper. 

“I’m afraid not,” quips Ignis, letting the mild teasing go in favor of digging his fingers in Gladio’s chiseled side and tickling him. 

“Aahahaha--_quit _!” roars Gladio as he laughs and hops away, jogging the rest of the way to the elevator. 

Ignis smirks, and the rest of the ride to his office is silent and comfortable. 

_____________ is just finishing her UberEats order when the office door clicks open, and a freshly showered Ignis and Gladio walk into the brightly-lit office. The masculine scent of shampoo and body wash and subtle cologne washes over her like a tidal wave, and she hopes that they both miss the goosebumps that run from her toes to the top of her head. Gladio strides over to her desk first and stands in front of it. 

“Hey,” __________ looks up at him and smiles and hopes that her face isn’t _too _red. “How was your training?” 

“Pretty good,” says Gladio as he shamelessly stretches, smirking as she rolls her eyes, because he doesn’t miss the blush on her chubby cheeks that betrays the action. “Kicked Iggy’s ass, as usual.” 

“I beg your pardon,” says Ignis as he sits at his desk and reopens his email. A rather large file attachment is already in his inbox—over three hours of voice recording from the budget meeting. He’s low-key impressed. Ever since __________ started recording the meetings that neither he nor Noctis attended, she’s gotten a better handle on what to expect, what to focus on, how to weed out bureaucratic jargon. The body of the email is short, but there’s a pun in her scathing review of the finance minister’s gods-awful tie color, and Ignis can’t help but snort in quiet laughter. “I bested you about as many times as the contrary, Gladio.” To his dismay, his stomach rumbles soon after the retort. 

Gladio laughs. “Look at you, trying to play cool and turn me down for a post-workout snack.” 

Ignis sniffs in embarrassment and clicks _play _on the audio file, tuning into the dulcet tones of the finance minister and his haughty council of accountants. Just kidding—he's a nightmare and were Ignis not sober, he’s sure he would have some choice words for the crotchety old man. 

“Oh--no worries guys! I ordered us some sandwiches from Kenny Crow’s,” ____________ remarks as she finds her binder full of notes and stands, intending to go over to Ignis to fill him in. “Just some club sandwiches and fries, nothing special. But I figured we’d all be hungry this afternoon. That meeting didn’t do me any favors, and the protein bar from my purse wore off an hour in.” 

Gladio stares at her ass as she shuffles over to Ignis. “You got food for all three of us?” 

___________ turns and smiles. “Well--yeah. I mean obviously I didn’t know if I’d see you this afternoon, but I got it anyway just in case. Figure if you weren’t around to eat it, Noct would be. Speaking of, shouldn’t one of us be going to pick him up from school?” ____________ looks at her watch. “It’s after four.” 

Ignis waves his hand. “His Highness very firmly told me that he was going to the arcade with Prompto today, and not to interrupt him.” Ignis narrows his eyes as he hears something on the recording; he pauses it, then rewinds several seconds. “We’ll go fetch him later.” He plays the recording again and catches what he missed. “Of all the _stupid_—divert funding from immigration and refugee aid accounts to give raises to high-ranking officials? It’s bloody appalling, the things they think they can get away with when His Majesty is not in attendance.” Ignis listens again, and ___________’s own voice follows the selfish proposal, echoing Ignis’ own opinions, albeit a little more polite and professional. He turns to her. 

____________ winces as her recorded voice fills the office. “Yikes, can you skip that part? I hate my voice on tape,” she chuckles. She rounds Ignis’ desk and splays open a thick binder full of minutes and notes from the meeting. “Well, here’s what I got.” She motions to the papers. 

“You handled your retort well,” says Ignis quietly as he scribbles in his own notebook, head tilted so that his ear is close to the computer monitor. He pauses the audio and looks up. 

Gladio has made himself comfortable on the couch, scrolling through social media on his phone, doing damage control of unauthorized pictures of Noctis. ___________ is at his side, pointing out this and that. Ignis finds himself inadvertently tuning out the arguments of the recording and staring at her mouth instead. His eyes wander to the subtle coffee stain on her dress and he quickly refocuses his attention to the meeting agenda and the dull audio. 

His gaze quickly flicks up to where Gladio’s sitting—and amber eyes are boring holes into his skull, and Ignis has never felt so exposed or confused. Gladio smirks a little, then goes back to his phone. 

Ignis doesn’t get it, but he thinks he really needs to get those vitamin C caplets sooner rather than later. He feels flushed, and he can’t afford to keep losing his focus. His stomach rumbles again, and he groans a little—and jumps when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. 

“Just in time, Ignis,” ___________ says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with the hand that’s not touching him. “My app just notified me that our delivery person is here. I’ll be a few minutes.” 

Ignis meets her tired eyes and nods. “Thank you. I shall continue this riveting party without you, if you don’t mind.” 

___________ laughs. “Don’t wait for me, dude. I sat through it in person. You’re torturing me by making me live through it again.” She grabs her purse and bounces out of the office. 

Ignis goes back to his work, the sensation of her hand on his shoulder lingering long after she leaves. 

__________ 

Two weeks later, he’s back in Regis’ study. 

“How are things, my boy? Gladiolus and Noctis seem to be quite pleased with the way ____________ is getting on. She’s becoming fast friends with them, it seems. Are you getting the results we needed, or was this old man wrong about everything?” The king’s eyes twinkle as he waits for Ignis to reply. 

Ignis thinks of the chocobo plush, the terrariums, the coffee stains, the anxious way she bites her plump bottom lip as she types or reads in concentration. He thinks about all the little things—the lunches ordered without asking, the going out of her way for his coffee, the way she doesn’t leave him, even when he’s in a grumpy mood—even when he’s mean. He keeps his face and voice neutral as he says, “It’s fine, your Majesty. She can stay.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis has a secret; you have a panic attack (thankfully, the two are unrelated).

You feel the drool at the corner of your mouth before you even open your eyes. There’s a crick in your neck, but you’re warm, and there’s an unfamiliar—but not unpleasant—feel of fabric draped across your shoulders. You don’t hear any voices or sounds except for the rhythmic _c__lack __clack __clack _of a keyboard. You shift slightly, finally opening sleep-crusted eyes, blinking in the dim light of the office. 

_ Ignis’ office_. You suddenly jolt up, struggling to even remember the date or the time. The overhead light is off, and only the few floor lamps have been left on. The only other light is coming from Ignis’ computer screen, and the backlight of your laptop keyboard—your own computer having gone to sleep with prolonged disuse. The papers underneath you are wrinkled, one corner wet with drool—a declassified military briefing Ignis had tasked you with reviewing. Oops. The jacket that’s been placed around your half-exposed shoulders—it's been so hot in Insomnia lately, so the sleeveless blouses and dresses have come out in full force—slips down a little as you sit up, and a faint scent of cologne wafts to your nostrils. 

The smell is overwhelmingly _Ignis_, and you involuntarily shiver. Underneath the subtle hint of cologne—Ignis is always so _posh_, he never uses too much of it—is his natural scent, and a mixture of the shampoo and deodorant you’d come to be intimately familiar with. You close your eyes and sigh, momentarily forgetting that you’re not alone. You draw his blazer back up and round your shoulders and pull it tightly around you, cracking your eyelids just a bit. 

Ignis has stopped typing and is staring at you from his desk. You think you see him smile slightly, but you’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows and the dim lamps. 

“Back with us?” he asks quietly. 

“Um,” you say, still clutching his jacket closed. “Y-yeah. Sorry. What time is it? How long was I out?” 

Ignis looks at his watch. “It’s eight thirty. You’ve been out for nearly an hour.” Ignis sighs in mild annoyance, but it’s fleeting. “You’re free to go, if you like. We can resume tomorrow.” He rubs his pretty green eyes under his silver-rimmed glasses, then cards his fingers through his hair. 

You bite your bottom lip as you watch him—it really isn’t fair, how you’ve gotten paired up with one of the sexiest men you’ve ever seen, while you’re pining away for approval and he probably wouldn’t give you the time of day if he didn’t have to. Reality is slowly coming back to you. It’s Friday night, and while your friends—and probably Noctis and Prompto and Gladio—are out having fun or at least relaxing at home playing video games or watching movies, you and Ignis have been mulling over military documents all evening. The remains of dinner have long been taken away by the janitors who come clean the office, and you haven’t heard anyone walking outside in the halls for a few hours. 

“Um, no, it’s fine, I can...I’m okay now. Sorry.” You’re suddenly hyper-aware of his gaze on you; and then you realize that he’s staring at his jacket around your shoulders. “Oh, uh. Thanks. Here...you can have this back.” You get up on bare feet—wedged sandals having long been discarded for comfort reasons—and pad over to his desk, withdrawing the blazer from around you and shaking it out, trying to smooth out wrinkles. Nothing about Ignis should ever be wrinkled, in your opinion, and you’re slightly embarrassed to have managed to mess up something so perfect while you weren’t even conscious. 

Ignis is in a plain white button-up and black slacks, with the shirt sleeves folded up to reveal his strong forearms. His driving gloves are folded neatly on the corner of his desk, and you brush your fingers over them slightly as you hand over the blazer. 

“___________?” Ignis asks, causing your head to snap back up to meet his gaze. His eyes dart down to where your chubby fingers are hovered ever-so-slightly above the gloves. 

You yank your hand back. “Sorry! I just...I admire them, I guess. That’s probably stupid. But they look very expensive. You always have such good taste.” 

Ignis coughs quietly. “Yes, well. They’re tailor-made, and imported from Altissia. An eighteenth birthday present from Noct.” 

You nod and look back down at the gloves. You idly wonder what the leather would feel like on your soft throat—it's a frequent fantasy in your mind, Ignis choking you. You swallow hard. “I should get back to...” 

“No,” says Ignis, rising. “It’s pointless to continue if you’re that tired.” He pauses. “Perhaps a lunch meeting tomorrow for a few hours to finish up, unless you’re otherwise entertained?” He raises a perfectly-plucked eyebrow. 

You shake your head. “No, no plans tomorrow. Uh. Lunch it is.” 

“I’ll have something delivered,” Ignis says casually as he saves his word document and puts his computer to sleep. “Be here at eleven. If we focus we can surely finish. We’ve made progress already.” He looks back up to you. “Your work is quite adequate. Keep it up.” 

_ Adequate. _It’s possibly one of the nicest compliments Ignis has given you since you started working for him. You really have tried hard, and although the mood has shifted over the past several weeks, you still feel nervous around him sometimes, and woefully out of your league. You start to pack up the documents and your laptop back at your desk, slipping back into your shoes as you make sure everything is in order. 

The office door opens without warning just as Ignis has crossed over to one of the corner floor lamps, turning it off. 

“Gladio?” he asks the large figure that has just entered the room. 

“Shiva’s tits, it’s late,” he curses. “What are you still doing here?” 

“We were just leaving, thank you. Some of us work for a living, you know.” 

“Oh please,” Gladio teases as he turns off the other lamp. “We’re both on Noct’s payroll, don’t give me that crap about _overtime _.” 

Ignis rolls his eyes and brushes past Gladio. The shield stands aside and lets you follow him—you turn and lock the office door behind you once the three of you are in the hallway. Ignis watches as you jiggle the handle to make sure it’s secure. 

“Besides, isn’t that why Regis got you this pretty little helper? So you _wouldn’t _work so much?” Gladio slings his arm around you and pulls you close. You can’t help but blush as you laugh. 

“Nevertheless,” says Ignis tightly. “As tensions with the empire increase, so does my workload, along with Noct’s responsibility.” 

“Yeah, some prince,” Gladio snorts as he pushes the button for the elevator. “How come _he _ain’t readin’ military reports on a Friday night? You should drag him away from Blondie, no doubt they’re just playing games or makin’ out on the couch.” 

You do a double-take at Gladio while Ignis hisses “_Gladio__, quiet!” _

Ignis turns to you. “You do _not _repeat what you just heard, understood? I must have your word of honor if you’re going to be privy to Noct’s personal life.” 

You nod slowly, stunned. But then again, thinking back to the few times you’d been out with the boys to the arcade or dive bars and the, _ahem_, supplies you’d found while cleaning Noct’s apartment...you slowly put two and two together. “Noct’s secret is safe with me.” You smile. “Honestly? They’re cute. If it makes him happy, then who cares?” 

Gladio smiles, but Ignis lets his face fall. “Despite how much Prompto means to him, one cannot forget His Highness’ duty. Noct will be expected to marry and produce an heir to continue the bloodline of Lucian kings. At best, if his future wife is understanding enough, Prompto will be nothing more than a royal consort.” 

“Shit, he’d be more than happy to be that.” chuckles Gladio as the three of you approach your cars in the nearly-deserted parking lot. 

You frown, suddenly sad that Noctis wouldn’t be allowed to live as his true self. “Is he...out to his father? Does the king know?” 

Ignis nods. “Regis figured it out even before I did. But it would be a country-wide scandal if Noctis were outed to the public.” He stares at you, eyes gleaming with subtle tears and passionate intensity. “I have cared for Noctis as long as I have known him, and I am consistently torn between duty and his happiness. I will do everything in my power to protect him, even if it were to cost me my life. I _do _hope you understand this, and understand when I say that if you breach any of the trust the four of us have placed in you, the consequences will be swift and severe. Do I make myself clear?” 

You swallow hard. You’d come to care so much for all of them over the past few months, even grumpy, too-perfect-for-a-helper Ignis. You reach out to take one of his hands, and surround it with both of your own. “I promise, Ignis. I would never do anything to hurt Noctis, or Prompto, or you, or Gladio. I consider myself very lucky to be allowed to help you in any way that I can. Please, if there’s anything else I can do to prove my loyalty...” 

Ignis’ face flushes slightly as his bare hand stays enclosed in yours. He prides himself on being able to detect lies—but in your face, and in your words, he sees the genuine compassion and loyalty to the Crown, to the job that Regis has tasked you with. He nods. “Your word is quite acceptable,” he says finally, pulling his hand away. 

Gladio places a strong, warm hand on your shoulder. “We’re happy that you’ve fallen in with us too, sweetheart. Lucky to have ya.” He pulls you in for a tight hug, kissing you on the top of the head, staring at Ignis while he does so. 

“Well. It’s been an unexpected emotional evening.” Ignis beeps his car unlocked, then opens the door. “Eleven o’clock,” he reminds you as he sits and starts the engine. 

You nod, pulling away from Gladio. “See you tomorrow!” you wave at him as Ignis peels away from his parking spot. 

“Damn, you must _really _be whipped if you’re letting him order you around on a Saturday,” Gladio teases once the two of you are alone. 

You shrug. “I fell asleep at my desk for like an hour tonight. It's my fault we didn’t get through all those military reports.” 

“You two work too hard,” Gladio says as he shakes his head. “You’ll be okay driving home?” 

“I don’t live too far, I’ll be all right. Will I see you tomorrow?” 

“More than likely,” Gladio chuckles as he digs out his own keys and beeps his truck. “The princess is gonna be here bright and early for training whether he likes it or not. I’ll drag Prompto along if I have to.” He gets in and starts it. “Sleep well, ____________.” 

You nod and smile. “Thanks Gladio.” You get in your car, start it, and put it in drive, slowly pulling away from the Citadel grounds. You notice that Gladio doesn’t leave until he sees you make it out to the street and beyond. You’re tired, but you feel happy and warm and loved—and you feel like Ignis has bared a little more if himself to you, and you love him even more for it. 

___________ 

The next Wednesday finds you and Ignis in another terribly long, boring meeting with various ministers of state. Even Regis keeps nodding off, and Clarus has to keep gently shaking him up. You know that the king is only around fifty years old, but he looks so much older. You know that he’s had to use such an incredible about of power to sustain protections around the capitol city, and you sadly wonder how Noct must feel—how it must feel for him to his father wither away before his very eyes. You scan the room of the various council members that you’ve become more familiar with recently—no one under age sixty, with the exception of you and Ignis and the king. You lean over to check the battery life on your laptop, which is open to a word document that you’d started to take notes on in the beginning of the afternoon, but has lain dormant for over a half hour now. Ignis is leaning back in the high-backed conference room chair, one long leg folded at a right angle over the other, and you hope that he won’t catch you staring at his sharp ankles under his argyle-print socks that had been revealed the moment he’d crossed his legs. 

The meeting barely half over before suddenly, you get a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You inhale sharply, causing Ignis to give you a side eye. You grip the polished wooden conference table in a white-knuckle grip as you feel your heartrate start to speed up for no discernible reason, and there are tears at the corners of your eyes. _ Fuck _ . Of all the times for a random panic attack, it just _had _to be in the middle of a six-hour meeting. Realizing that you’ll have to face repercussions for leaving, you steel your resolve and swallow hard as you shakily stand up from your seat, causing a few of the men to turn to you, Regis included. 

“Pardon,” you say quietly. “I must excuse myself. I’ll return shortly.” 

They all nod, figuring that you’re probably headed to the bathroom, you brush past Ignis’ chair, ignoring his annoyed hiss of “Where are you going?” and walk as quickly as your short legs will carry you—out of the room, down the hall to the single-use bathroom that’s just a few doors down from the meeting. You tear open the door and sink down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you’re suddenly overcome with sobs that make your whole body convulse. You don’t care if anyone can hear you or not. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps, the thin linen blouse and pants you’re wearing doing little to combat the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Time falls away as you collapse into yourself, desperately gasping for air. 

Unbeknownst to you, Ignis followed you out after a few minutes of absence, finding it odd that a bathroom trip could take so long. He pauses outside of the bathroom, pressing his ear to the door. He hears your muffled sobs, and at first he’s confused. Did he do something wrong? He’s been trying to be better, he thinks—cordial, at best. You _are _helping, though it’s been slow on the uptake; he’s into a routine now, and he thinks that you could stick around for a little while longer, if you wanted. _Why is she crying_? Ignis doesn’t understand. Nothing about the council meeting has been particularly triggering—it's not a meeting about the refugee crisis, about the war with Niflheim, which is something that anyone with a heart would get upset over, himself included. He checks his watch as he stands outside of the door. Ten minutes...fifteen minutes...the tears aren’t stopping, and the deep gasps for breath aren’t going away. Ignis doesn’t know what he’s feeling, only that he wants to make this invisible pain go away so he can get his assistant back. 

He tentatively knocks on the bathroom door. “_____________?” 

You jerk your head up at the sound of Ignis’ voice. He’s simultaneously the last and only person you want to find you like this. In another life, Ignis is clutching you to his broad chest, surrounding you with warmth and love and a soothing presence. The Ignis of reality is likely to be annoyed at the fact that you’ve been gone from a council meeting for over twenty minutes. You decide that you have to go back—it's your _job_, and you don’t want to disappoint . Besides, the _king _is in there. 

“Yeah?” you choke out, rather pathetically. “I’m coming back...sorry.” 

A pause. “Might I come in?” 

The gods really are cruel, you think. Your crush and your boss, seeing you like this? You’d rather melt through the floor, but there’s no escaping, is there? “I guess,” you reply. 

Ignis pushes the door open. You don’t look up at him; your head is still tucked down, arms holding your folded-up legs as close to your chest as they can get. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice is neutral, but not harsh. 

“I...a panic attack. I’m sorry. I get them sometimes. I’m...I’m not sure what triggered it. Sometimes it can be nothing.” 

Ignis kneels down and places a gloved hand on your shoulder. You lift your head to look at him, finally. The emotion that plays across his chiseled features leaves you stunned. Ignis actually looks...concerned? He frowns. “Can you return to the meeting?” 

“Honestly? I don’t know. Sometimes it takes hours for me to calm down. I mean, I’ve worked through them before, but...it’s not easy.” You sniff hard and wipe the tears from your eyes. You feel your nose running with snot, and you’re aware that you’re not a pretty crier, but Ignis reaches up to the paper towel dispenser and grabs a fistful, handing them to you so you can blow your nose. 

“Here,” he says gently. 

You take the napkins and blow hard, wiping your eyes as well. “Thanks,” you murmur weakly. 

“Can I do anything?” 

You feel your face flush as you give a hollow laugh and shake your head. “I mean, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t like it, so I’m not even going to bother asking. Thanks for checking on me, though. I’ll be okay.” 

“No, you’re not okay. And I’m not leaving this bathroom until you tell me how I can help you.” 

You bite your lip and sigh. _Goodbye, assistant job. _“Well, when I get like this, I like to be...hugged. Cuddled. Whatever you want to call it. Weight is grounding, y’know, like...being surrounded by something.” 

Ignis doesn’t blink, doesn’t say a word as he moves to sit next to you, back against the bathroom door, stretching his long legs out and motioning to his lap. “Well, come on then.” 

You stare into his gorgeous green eyes in awe. “You’re...serious?” 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” 

“No.” You slowly move over to him, turning sideways, so that your legs are folded over his lap. Ignis brings one arm around you and pulls you close, making you lay your head on his chest. You can smell the mix of his cologne, soap, and his underlying natural scent—and suddenly your heart is beating fast for a different reason. Then both of his strong arms are around you, holding you tightly as you cry into his shirt. 

You don’t remember falling asleep with Ignis on a random hallway bathroom floor, but you must have, because when you wake up, you’re on the soft velvet chaise in his office. You’re under a thick blanket, and your head is on Gladio’s lap. He’s got one arm draped over on top of the blanket that’s on you, and the other is holding a book. He feels you shift, and he looks down from reading. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “You okay?” 

Your body feels weak, but other than that, you seem to be back to normal. You nod. “I’ll be okay. Panic attacks take a pretty big physical toll on me. Where’s Ignis? I have to get back to the meeting! What time is it?” You move to sit up suddenly, alarmed that you’re not doing what you’re supposed to be doing. 

Gladio’s arm is not so easily moved, though. He holds you down on the couch tightly. “You’re not going anywhere. The meeting’s almost over. Ignis can handle it. He called me after you fell asleep. Found you two in the bathroom. I carried you up here. And you’re going to rest until you feel at one hundred percent again.” 

You sniff and bury yourself back under the blankets pushing your face against Gladio’s hard stomach. You feel him pat you. “Go back to sleep, darlin’. You’re safe. I’m here. You don’t need to worry about anything else today.” 

Back down in the conference room, Regis adjourns the meeting, pulling Ignis aside to question him. After assuring the king that you’re alright, just a minor medical emergency that required your absence from the last half of the meeting, Ignis briskly ignores the other council members and walks straight back to his office. Gladio’s still there on the chaise lounge, reading, and you’re still a human burrito under blankets. He goes over to his desk and drops his stacks of papers on it, rounding it again to go to the couch. 

“Is she sleeping?” Ignis asks, voice tight. 

Gladio nods. “She woke up earlier, all frantic about having missed the meeting, tried to go back down. I wouldn’t let her.” 

Ignis nods. “Thank you. She was in no state to continue to work, especially in front of those clowns in the council.” 

Gladio chuckles. “I’ll tell my father you think he’s a clown.” 

“Obviously I didn’t mean _him_, Gladio. Be reasonable.” Ignis sighs. “I’ve hardly been so scared. Not since the first time Noctis tried to warp and smacked his face into a concrete wall. And the fact that you can’t _do _anything, that your mind is telling you that there’s danger when there’s not any...I can’t imagine how frightening that must feel.” 

Gladio stares at his friend. He thinks he’s beginning to see chinks in the armor, but he knows Ignis isn’t quite where he needs to be. Still, his concern over this episode is a welcome surprise, and a damn good start. “You did good, holding her like that. You know, Prompto gets anxiety attacks. Noct tells me about them, and I’ve witnessed one. I know it might be unpleasant, but it really means a lot to whoever’s hurting. They can’t help it.” 

Ignis sniffs. “Unpleasant isn’t quite the word. But I’m surprised at myself. I can’t imagine how dirty that bathroom floor was.” He cocks his head. “Prompto experiences this?” 

Gladio nods. “Yeah. Noct’s had to soothe a lot of them away. It must be hell for him when Noct’s occupied, when he’s all alone.” 

Ignis looks at the lump of blankets again, and suddenly, he’s scared in spite himself—scared of ever having to let you go through another panic attack without a familiar comfort. “She was reluctant to have me help, at first,” Ignis says quietly. “I wonder why?” 

Gladio thinks about how he found you and Ignis, and knowing what he knows about your feelings toward the adviser, he can’t blame you for being nervous about the closeness. He shrugs. “You don’t always radiate a caring energy towards her, Iggy. She probably thought you were gonna laugh at her, or tell her to get back to the meeting anyway.” 

“Have I been that callous?” 

“Well, yeah. Kinda. You’ve gotten a little better, but if she’s reluctant to ask you for help for fear of chastisement, you still have some deep introspection to do.” The shield turns back to his book. 

Ignis stares at you a moment longer, then finally goes to his desk to sort out his notes—and his feelings. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FAKE DATING FAKE DATING
> 
> EVEN IF IT'S ONLY FOR A DAY
> 
> Y'ALL CAN PULL THIS TROPE FROM MY COLD, DEAD HANDS  
_________  
https://thevirtualcanvas.tumblr.com/post/188746954246/ignis-is-dressed-like-a-vampire-hes-wearing-a
> 
> ^^^ CYANIDECHERUB DOES IT AGAIN GUYS

Sunday morning comes early, and not because you want it to. You’re snuggled under your clean sheets and blankets, dozing peacefully, when the light, airy chime of your new ringtone cuts through the quiet of your bedroom. Groaning, you blink one eye open, fumbling for your phone on the bedside table. You register the time as being seven am, and the caller is none other than Ignis. You frown, hoping it’s not an emergency, and answer the call on the third ring. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily. 

“Good morning, __________,” says Ignis casually and lightly, like he’s already been up for an hour.

_He probably has_, you think. 

“Do you have plans for today?” 

Squinting and rubbing your eyes, you answer. “Uh...some laundry, housework. Cooking? That’s about it. Why? Is something wrong?” 

Ignis sighs. “Well—no, not _wrong, _per se, but there is something I would like to discuss with you. Care to meet me for coffee at Ebony Roasters?” 

“Uh...sure? The one downtown by the Citadel or the other one?” 

“Downtown.” 

“Uh, okay. Let me—can I text you when I’m leaving my apartment?” 

“No need, I’m en route. Just come downstairs when you’re ready.” 

You laugh. “Shit dude, how do you know _everything _?” 

“It’s my business to know everything, as you’re well aware. Besides, your address is in your background check documents. I have quite a high-level security clearance, as you must know.” 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course you do. Okay. I’ll try to be ready as fast as I can. Uh. Am I dressing casual for this, or...?” 

“No need to doll up on my account.” 

“Okay, cool. Uh. See you soon, I guess.” 

“Take your time.” 

Ignis hangs up first, and you stare at your home screen, trying to process what’s just happened. 

“What the fuck?” you cry out as you get out of bed and start scurrying to get ready. 

The café is fairly dead for eight am on a Sunday. You manage to throw on an old Insomnia High sweater, clean leggings, and tennis shoes, putting your hair up in a messy bun. Ignis is perfect as usual—you think that the day you ever see Ignis in jeans and a t-shirt is the day that the world will truly be ending. He pays for your usual breakfast sandwich and coffee order as well as his own, and leads you to a secluded corner of armchairs around the corner from the counter. You hesitate to eat at first; taking a few sips of your iced coffee, you wait for him to tell you what’s going on. 

Ignis sips his flat white, fiddles with the paper bag that’s got his biscuit in it, then lifts his eyes to you. There’s a faint flush to his cheeks, but you’re sure it’s just from the summer heat. It’s starting to come down, though—it's nearly September, _finally_. He opens his mouth to speak—then closes it, clears his throat, then opens it again. 

You stare at him in awe. Is Ignis...nervous? You didn’t think you’d ever seen him _nervous _before. You weren’t even aware that Ignis had the capability to be nervous--he was unruffled, put-together, always. 

“There is an envoy from Accordo arriving next month.” 

Ah, one of the big fancy balls you were never invited to and wouldn’t have attended even if you had gotten a golden envelope on your desk. You nod. “I thought I heard some whisperings in the hallways about that. One of those huge gala-type ordeals, yeah?” You take another sip of your coffee and smile. “I guess you’ll be rather busy helping Noct get prepared and all. What more can I do to help you, boss?” 

Ignis bristles slightly at the title and takes a rather long sip of coffee. “It’s not that...oh, bloody hell. For whatever preposterous reason, they’ve decided to make it _themed_, a masquerade ball. And everyone in attendance will be required to have a partner. Since you’ve come to help me—and by extension, Noct—you will be receiving an invitation.” 

You’d been taking your bagel sandwich out of its bag and are about to dig in as you register the last sentence that leaves Ignis’ mouth. You set the sandwich down and stare at him. Yeah, he’s _definitely _blushing, because the air conditioner is totally working. “I. ..are you telling me that I have to _go _?” 

Ignis is silent. 

“I...I mean, I don’t...fuck, Ignis, I don’t even know how to dance. I’m a total pleb. I don’t even have anything fancy enough to wear to a Citadel event, either, and I don’t know, y’know the place settings where you have like eight forks, and I...” You’re aware that you’re rambling. You’ve averted your eyes and you’re fidgeting with your hands and you’re praying to whatever god is feeling benevolent today that you don’t have another panic attack in front of Ignis. Your voice trails off into a mumble, and you chance a look back at him. 

“You certainly aren’t obligated—none of the lower-tier clerks ever are. However, Noct is insisting on bringing Prompto; Gladio and his sister Iris are going as a pair; and well, I thought, I...I don’t have anyone else, you see, and...” 

The realization hits you like a truck and you feel like lying on the floor for about an hour in order to process all of this. “Wait. Wait are you saying that _we’re _going to go? Like, together?” 

Ignis coughs and takes another long sip of coffee before answering. “As work associates, of course. Though if the idea is completely revolting to you, I suppose I could see if one of the glaives would accompany me—” 

“Oh—no!” You squeak out. You can’t believe this is happening. “I, uh. I’ll go. To the thing. With you. ‘Cause it's for work. And stuff.” 

“Brilliant.” Ignis exhales long and slow and finally digs into his biscuit, leaving you to do the same. 

“Oh—sorry, Noct!” You wince as you step on the prince’s foot yet _again_. It’s three weeks before the masquerade event with the delegates from Accordo, and Noctis has taken it upon himself to teach you a few basic waltzes and group dances. He’s already been teaching Prompto a little bit of formal etiquette over the past year, so even the bubbly sunshine boy is light years ahead of you, and you’re beyond embarrassed. There was absolutely no way you had the courage to ask Ignis to teach you, on top of all the other shit the man had to do, so you’d voiced your concerns to Gladio; and, well, they’d somehow trickled down to the prince himself. 

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Noctis says gently as he shakes it off and guides you back into position. 

“It took me for-ev-errrrr,” Prompto chimes from the couch, where he’s crouched over his phone, engrossed in King’s Knight. “But at least now I don’t stumble. Mostly.” 

“You’ll be great, Prom,” Noct says sincerely, slight blush to his cheeks. 

You smile, glad to see the prince so happy and in love. “Sorry, Noctis. Let me try again.” 

Noct guides you through a few more rounds, and you find yourself slowly getting the rhythm of a basic waltz down, as long as you silently count to yourself and stay focused on Noct’s beautiful eyes. 

It’s a Saturday night, and the two boys had invited you over for pizza and a movie—and of course, dance training, as well as table manners. The kitchen table was still littered with a mockup of a formal place setting (though you were pretty sure that the masquerade ball wasn’t going to have a menu of pizza and hot wings), and you’d eventually scribbled down a sketch of the plate and utensils, determined to memorize it so well that you’d end up having dreams about it. Noctis had summarized what usually happened at such events, just so that you weren’t going in blind; and already, you were starting to feel a little better. 

The two of you are just starting on a different dance when the front door handle jiggles with the insertion of a key, and the door opens to reveal Ignis, arms laden with a few grocery bags. He blinks in surprise as you and Noct freeze, hands still on each other in the formal pose. Prompto reaches over to pause the classical music that’s coming from the wireless mini speaker on the coffee table. Ignis gives the two of you a once-over, then steps inside, closes the door, and sets the bags on the floor beside his shoes as he steps out of them. 

“Noctis, straighten up.” 

“Oh, here we go.” The prince rolls his eyes. 

“Your hand is too high on her waist-/” Ignis moves Noct’s hand and you can’t help but blush as he repositions it. “There. Step closer, your partner doesn’t have the plague. Chin up, square your shoulders more...___________, move your hand like this—” Ignis fusses over the two of you until he deems it to his liking, then goes back to pick up the groceries and haul them to the kitchen. 

Noctis makes a side eye at Prompto and the blonde giggles, turning back on the speaker. 

“Although his Highness is no stranger to dancing,” Ignis says as he comes back into the living room a few minutes later, “you should have come to _me _for lessons.” 

“Leave me alone Specs, I’m teaching her just fine,” Noctis retorts as he spins you away. “Now, you twirl twice—like that, yeah, and then you—Prompto, what do the girls do after?” 

“Ugh, why do I have to know all the girl parts?” he whines. 

“Stay put, Prompto. Noct, come here.” Ignis interjects himself between you and Noctis, seamlessly easing into the lead role and positioning Noctis into the secondary position. “Now, ____________, I will go slowly, but watch what Noctis does as I direct him.” 

Noctis rolls his eyes again but follows Ignis’ lead, taking instruction and mimicking the ladies’ movements in slow motion so you can get a visual picture of how to move. They repeat the dance a few times before Ignis steps away to bow, and Noct does a lazy curtsy in his gray sweatpants, plopping on the couch beside Prompto in a huff. 

“Charming,” chides Ignis as he turns to you and holds out his hand. “Since I’m to be your partner, best to practice with me, no?” 

“Uh...yeah, I guess.” You tentatively take his hand—_fuck, _he’s still in his leather gloves—and let him position your hands on his shoulders as he gently places a hand on your waist. You swallow hard. You _really _weren’t sure how you were going to get through the night. Prompto restarts the dreamy violin piece, and Ignis begins to lead you in a tight square. 

The room seems to melt away, and all you can focus on are Ignis’ stunning green eyes behind his glasses. His eyelashes are _so _long, and there’s a few dark freckles on his right cheek—how had you never noticed that before? You move your mouth in a silent count as you focus on not stepping on Ignis’ feet. You feel your heart pounding as he spins you away, and then draws you back into a tight embrace, dipping you as the song draws to a close. He leads you back to your feet, and you step away, curtseying as he bows. You can feel how red your face is—Noctis and Prompto, thankfully, aren’t paying attention, they’re laughing at something on Noct’s phone, totally engrossed in each other. 

“Why didn’t you ask me for dance lessons?” Ignis raises an eyebrow as he folds his arms. 

“Oh, well—you're always so busy, and I didn’t want to bother you...” 

Ignis huffs. “If we are going to be seen together, practicing with me is crucial. I move differently than Noct, and we are different sizes. To dance well is to know one’s partner. Now, if Noct will commit to a few more meetings over the next few weeks, we can free up some time in our schedule to practice during the day.” He looks over to the couch. 

Noctis raises his head. “Huh? Oh, uh, sure. You should learn how to dance, or whatever. I can handle it.” 

Ignis drops his arms and adjusts his glasses. “Thank you, Highness.” 

Noctis just shrugs as he puts his arm around Prompto, easing the blond into leaning his head on the prince’s shoulder. 

You follow Ignis into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he begins to prepare a meal with some of the spices and vegetables he’s left out. “Need any help?” 

“I’m making curry—if you want to put the rice in the rice cooker and defrost the chicken,” Ignis starts as he finishes tying on his apron. 

You nod and put the chicken in the microwave, giving it the appropriate defrost settings, before digging in Noct’s pantry for the rice and the rice cooker. 

Prompto and Noct look over their shoulders to the two of you moving around in the kitchen, making idle chit chat as you cook. 

Prompto raises an eyebrow and looks at Noctis. “They’re cute together, y’think?” he says quietly. 

Noctis smirks. “Yeah, they are. But I don’t think that Iggy knows she likes him.” 

“He’s not that mean to her anymore, though, so that’s good.” 

“But they’re even not really friends yet,” Noct whispers back. “But I mean, did you see how she looked at him when they were dancing?” 

“Yeah, that’s how I look at you,” Prompto teases, causing Noctis to turn to him with a deep blush on his cheeks. 

“Dude,” Noct starts, but he’s cut off as Prompto quickly presses a kiss to his lips. 

“Maybe this ball will help Iggy warm up a little more,” Prompto says as he pulls away. 

Noctis shakes himself back to reality and looks again at the two of you. There’s a lid on the large pot on the stove, and Ignis is leaning against the counter, arms folded but eyes sparkling as he chuckles about something. The boys can only see your face in profile, but they both recognize the clear yearning and attraction in your eyes and your body language. 

“She’s so cute,” Prompto mumbles as he turns around, picking his phone up from the coffee table. 

“Yeah,” Noctis breathes. “I hope Iggy comes around soon.” 

___________ 

The night of the masquerade arrives, and you’re pacing back and forth across your small living room as you wait for Ignis to pick you up. Turns out that the Citadel had quite a collection of period costumes to be rented out—so you’re in a 6th century ball gown, all done up in petticoats and a corset, puffy sleeves and lace gloves, with a feathered half-mask over your eyes. You’re carrying a small drawstring bag that can be hung around your wrist to free up your hands; your hair is in a tight updo, a pearl headband being the only simple head ornament; and your makeup is light, so as to not rub off all over the inside of the intricate mask. A simple pearl choker with a teardrop rhinestone pendant is around your neck, accentuating your dress. 

The knock on the door startles you and you take a deep breath, giving your living room a once-over to make sure you have everything you needed in your bag. You step to the door and open it—and you’re pretty sure there’s no hiding the audible gulp that follows. 

Ignis is dressed like a _vampire_. He’s wearing a top hat and carrying a cane, and he looks right at home in his caped ensemble. He's wearing a vest, with a long, twin-tailed jacket on top of it, ruffled lace cravat cascading down the center of his chest. He’s wearing knee-length breeches, white stockings underneath, gold-buckled shoes with little bat clasps on top of them. The outfit is all in purple and black, a stark contrast to your mostly-white gown, which has a few purple underpinnings to offset the monotony. Ignis smiles softly, and you grip your doorknob hard in order to keep from fainting—because the man has had the audacity to glue fake fangs to the top row of his teeth. 

“Good evening,” he says, and his accent has never fit him more perfectly. 

“Uh,” you swallow. “Hey! Let’s uh, get this show on the road?” 

“Of course.” Ignis steps aside as you exit your apartment, turning off the living room light and shutting the door behind you, digging your key from your bag to lock the door. 

Noctis and Prompto are dressed in black and white suits, respectively; and Gladio and his little sister are both dressed like old-timey musketeers, floppy feathered hats and capes and all. She’s quite bubbly as she bounces around the ballroom, staying close to Noctis, until Gladio pulls her away and tells her to stop bothering his Highness. Prompto looks absolutely radiant in his white silk suit, face flushed as he’s introduced to various dignitaries and ministers of state as “the Prince’s best friend.” He hardly leaves Noctis all night, but when the prince is inevitably pulled away with his father to be introduced to Secretary Claustra and her aids, Prompto zeroes in on Gladio and doesn’t leave his side until Noct’s free again. 

There’s not many people you know here outside of the prince’s personal retinue—your old colleagues from the HUD office aren’t high enough to be granted clearance and an invitation to tonight’s event—you wave a polite hello to the council members who see fit to make eye contact with you—apparently, you’re recognizable even through the gaudy old costume and mask. Ignis, however, is schmoozing with nearly _everyone_—making sure Noctis has moved within certain cliques, attending to the large spread of food—you say a silent thanks to the Astrals that the event has a catered buffet instead of formal place settings, meaning that you can eat hors d’oeuvres and drink little flutes of champagne at your leisure instead of worrying about which fork to use. You’re not offended that Ignis has left you alone for the beginning of the night; in fact, you’re having fun just being a wallflower in costume, people-watching. 

You’re just finishing your second small plate of food when the entire room moves, nearly in unison, to the middle of the floor. The miniature orchestra that’s tucked into the corner lets out a few warm-up notes as everyone gets in position. You freeze. A dance is about to start. You set your empty plate and glass down on the floor, nervously looking around for Ignis. Suddenly, a strong, gloved hand grabs your arm and leads you to the edge of the dance floor and spins you around, getting you into position. 

“Forgive me for my lateness,” Ignis says around his fake fangs, which you can’t stop staring at. “The minister of finance is quite loquacious this evening.” 

You chuckle as you grip Ignis’ shoulder and begin to count silently in your head as the waltz begins. “When is he not? It’s okay. I was having fun on the outskirts.” 

Ignis’ mask is less of a mask and more of feathers and accoutrements that have been glued and positioned around his glasses—obviously he has more than one pair, and this pair has been made into a beautiful but functional masquerade piece. It’s simple and inventive, and so totally Ignis. He hums part of the waltz, closing his eyes to prove just how much of an accomplished dancer he is. He can do this in the _dark_, and it’s electrifying. 

You sigh as Ignis drops your outstretched arm and clutches your waist, helping you with the little hop that the dance demands. 

“You’re just not the social butterfly, are you?” Ignis asks as your positions return to normal. 

You shrug. “Gee, you couldn’t tell?” 

Ignis actually laughs. “No need to be ashamed. Noct is also notoriously camera-shy, and his entire life has been in the spotlight.” 

You smile warmly at Ignis, continuing the rest of the dance in relative silence. As the orchestra closes out its music, you step away first, curtseying as Ignis bows. When you stand upright again, he’s looking at you with a curious expression—and then his gloved hands reach out to your neck and brush the simple teardrop rhinestone pearl choker. You stand there frozen as he adjusts the clasp around your neck so that it’s hidden in the back, heart beating against your ribcage like a trapped feral animal. Ignis’ hand lingers for a few seconds on the back of your neck after the necklace is turned around, and then he pulls away. 

“Um,” you say gracefully. “Th-thanks.” Your eyes dart around to the dispersing crowd, and Gladio catches your eye, and the look on his face tells you that he just saw the oddly intimate interaction. “Oh, there’s Gladio. I don’t think I’ve said hi to him yet. Excuse me.” You turn sharply, without waiting for Ignis to reply, and dash in his direction. Gladio turns as soon as he sees you heading towards him, making his way towards the balcony. 

He’s leaning on the railings, looking out towards the bustling city night, when you sidle up close beside him and sigh. 

“So...what was all that about?” the musketeer asks, teasing. 

“I have no fucking idea, but I don’t know how much more I can handle,” you say, voice tight. “For one, he’s dressed like a _vampire_, which, okay, that brings up a whole new crop of improper thoughts. And two...he adjusted my necklace, did you _ see _that?” You shiver with the memory of his gloved hands touching your neck, reaching your own lace-covered hand up and fiddling with the choker. 

“You’ve got it bad, baby,” Gladio says wistfully. 

“Y-yeah,” you say with a gulp. “Pretty sure I’m not even being subtle about it anymore. But it’s fine. He’s gotten a little nicer. He doesn’t call me stupid so much anymore, so...progress?” You laugh. 

“It was wrong of him to ever treat you like that in the first place. You’re not stupid. You’re very smart. I just hope he continues to see it. The boys think the world of you, and I do, too.” Gladio turns, his handsome face somehow enhanced by the intricate red mask he’s sporting. He smiles warmly. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way. Did anyone tell you that?” 

You blush and look away. “No-no, not exactly.” 

“Damn shame,” the shield says as he rises. 

In the distance, the music starts back up again; Gladio extends his hand as he half-bows. “Think your blood-sucker would mind if I stole you away for a dance?” 

You giggle as you curtsy. “For a noble musketeer? I think he’d be okay with that.” 

You and Gladio don’t even go back into the ballroom, but dance right out there on the balcony, alone and in your own little world, illuminated not by chandeliers but by the distant lights of skyscrapers and cars and streetlights. 

Inside, Ignis leans against a far column, sitting out this dance as he watches you move fluidly with Gladio out on the balcony. He feels movement beside him and doesn’t even need to turn his head to know who has come to keep him company. 

“She looks beautiful in that costume,” says Noctis, sipping a flute of champagne. 

Ignis says nothing. 

“You just gonna let Gladio steal her from you like that? Gonna go drink his blood or something in retaliation?” The prince giggles at his own joke. 

Prompto comes up beside them, plate full of food. His face is red and his eyes are dilated in pleasure. “This is the best food I have ever eaten in my entire life,” he says, swallowing a too-big bite. “Oh, uh, besides your cooking, Iggy!” 

“No offense taken,” Ignis says quietly. 

“I mean it!” quips Prompto hurriedly, trying to save face, as he notices the other two staring. “What’s so enchanting to you two...oh,” he breathes, finally following their line of sight out to the balcony as Gladio sends you out for a twirl. 

“It’s like _Beauty and the Beast_, or something,” Prompto says. “He’s so tall, and she’s shorter than I am...” 

“Think Ignis would rather this be _Castlevania _ instead,” Noctis teases, earning him a subtle elbow to the ribs. “Ow, _hey_!” 

Prompto looks from Ignis’ hard-set jawline to his narrowed eyes behind his decorated glasses, back to the balcony, then back to Ignis, and his eyebrows lift in surprise. “Iggy, are you..._jealous _?” 

“I am no such thing,” he lies. “Merely observing her so I can critique her if necessary, so as to spare her embarrassment from the nobility.” 

“Sure,” drawls Noctis, taking another sip of champagne and giving Prompto a side-eye behind Ignis’ back. 

The song draws to a close, and Ignis watches as you and Gladio finally separate, bowing and curtseying to each other; and then he watches as Gladio pulls you in for a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. Gladio watches Ignis stiffen and turn away at his actions; and the shield smirks to himself. _Bingo_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slut for any vampire!Ignis AU, so uh, here's my fake vampire fantasy lmfao


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accidental email has Ignis questioning everything he thinks he knows about himself and his feelings.

It’s Saturday night when a new email notification chirps on Ignis’ smartphone. He’s finally home alone—it's nearly nine o’clock, but Noctis doesn’t stop being Noctis just because it’s the weekend. ___________ had helped him in the office earlier, doing grocery shopping after that while Ignis had trained. But she’d retired early in the afternoon, vowing to work a little from home—and judging by the new email, she’d done exactly that. Ignis sighs in relief that his assistant had kept her word, and he’s looking forward to reviewing the documents she’d sent him. The attached file is rather large for a word document, he thinks—and the file name is a series of jumbled letters and numbers, but he shrugs it off, thinking he’d just rename it once it was downloaded. 

He’s in bed, in his silk button-up pajamas, piping hot mug of chamomile tea on his bedside. There's a book of poetry on the sheets beside him, an unexpected gift from ___________; and Ignis is still isn’t sure how she knew who his favorite mid-7th century author was, but he’s not complaining. He flicks from lazy social media scrolling to the email and taps _yes _on the _download file? _option. The percentage bar finally fills to a green _100%_, and then his phone screen blips to the attachments from ____________. 

Ignis nearly drops his phone as he sputters and chokes on air. 

It’s not dull council documents that his assistant has emailed him. Instead, it’s a rather scandalous set of pictures of her in a boudoir photoshoot, various colors and styles of lacy lingerie hugging and caressing her soft, voluptuous form. She’s not nude in any of them; there are a few of her topless, but her arms are across her full, ample chest in those. She’s in various positions: propped up on pillows on a bed, lying down, kneeling and looking over her shoulder with a _Come hither _stare. Her hair and makeup are done to the nines, something that Ignis hasn’t witnessed in their everyday office interactions. He feels his face heat up, feels his heart race a million beats per minute. He’s five hundred percent certain that she’s emailed these on accident—none of her past behavior to him has warranted sending him these sorts of photos on _purpose_...have they? Ignis racks his brain, but he can’t think of any examples where she’d straight-up solicited him in any manner. 

He gulps, and even though he knows he shouldn’t, he looks through all of the pictures again, pausing for several seconds on each one, zooming in to see detailed curve of her naked spine and wide, dimpled hips; or how the black stockings cut into her thick thighs, fatty flesh spilling over them because she’s just too much woman for the sheer nylon to contain; or how her full, red lips look when they’re slightly parted, all at once innocent and sexy; and then a thought crosses his over-worked brain before he can stop it—_How would those lips look while wrapped around my cock? _ And he violently shudders, letting out a soft groan as he feels his cock stir with interest. Ignis _knows _ that this was an accident, that he should delete these photos and this email and forget that this has ever happened—they're not even _friends, _he argues with himself; he doesn’t _like _her like that—she's the hired help, nothing more; in fact when she first started out, he’d _hated _her, and was none-to-subtle in letting her know. Her very presence was an insult to him, no matter the pure and helpful intentions of Noctis and Gladio—she's merely a secretary, Ignis argues to himself, over and over and over. 

But then he thinks about holding her in his arms as she’d cried, so lost inside of her own head that she could scarcely breathe; he thinks of her immediate acceptance of Noctis, her unwavering loyalty, her dedication to both him and the Crown’s interests, and by extension, his own self; thinks of all the little things she does, like coffee and breakfast in the morning, the book of poetry to his right; the way she laughs and giggle-snorts at Prompto’s lame jokes, the way she cooks simply yet passionately. He thinks of the masquerade party at the Citadel earlier this past month, the way his fingers had grazed her neck as he’d innocently fixed her necklace, and the way his stomach had done odd somersaults after watching Gladio dance with her in private, on the balcony. 

_ Gladio_. He’d insisted months earlier that the two of them were not a couple, and that ___________ had liked someone else—yet, he never seemed to ease up on the crushing hugs, the quick kisses to her hair, her cheek, her forehead. He'd gotten her flowers on her birthday—Ignis hadn’t even remembered that it had been her birthday that day, and he’d shrugged it off then—but now, he feels like the biggest asshole in the world. He racks his brain trying to think if he’s caught notice of any new jewelry she might wear that could’ve been purchased by a potential suitor—she doesn’t talk about her private life much, but Ignis can’t recall her ever blowing off working late or on the weekends in lieu of a date or staying in with a significant other. He idly wonders if the attraction she has to this other man is one-sided—and then his heart sinks in horror when he realizes that she could very well be in the same position as Noctis. He tries to reconcile his feelings as he pictures her with another woman in his mind’s eye, but in every scenario, somehow the partner always morphs into _him. _

Ignis slips his hand beneath his pants and brings himself to completion in record time, feeling embarrassed and guilty in the sticky aftermath. He _should _delete these photos, and the whole damn email. It’s a breach of trust, she sent them on _accident_. But Ignis is only a man, and apparently, for all his perfection, he’s so incredibly weak. He closes the email without deleting anything, doesn’t even drink the remainder of his tea, and falls into a fitful sleep with the lamp still on. 

___________ 

Gladio’s reading the new sequel to one of his favorite novels when his phone blares into the silence. He frowns but sets his bookmark on the page and closes the book; but his face softens when he sees who’s on the other line. 

“It’s your quarter, spend it,” he teases. 

“_Gladio_,” comes the desperate plea from ___________ on the other end. “I can’t...I fucked up. I fucked up so hard. You’re going to have to help me move to like. Tenebrae. Or something.” 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Gladio chuckles as he adjusts himself on the couch. “What happened?” 

“So you know those...pictures...that Prompto helped me with? Well I was supposed to email Ignis some work I had done earlier today once I was home, but I accidentally...oh, gods. I accidentally attached the pictures to the email. Instead of the work documents. To Ignis. I sent him the _pictures_, Gladio. What am I going to do?” 

Gladio blushes a little at the memory of the pictures. He’d only seen a couple, but he couldn’t get over how tantalizing she’d looked in them. It further fueled his determination to make Iggy see what he was missing, or else he was going to try to win her over for himself, no matter what it took. “Calm down, darlin’. Has he responded?” 

“No--what do I do? I was thinking of like, sending a follow-up email with the correct attachment, and just being like, ‘Hey, sorry—wrong file, ha ha.’” 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I wouldn’t mention it at all, unless he does first. Don’t worry, he probably deleted it as soon as he saw it wasn’t what he was looking for.” 

__________ gulps hard. “I hope so. Fuck, I’m so embarrassed. The picture folder was right under the reports he needed and I just wasn’t paying attention, and...” 

“Lucky bastard, though,” Gladio teases. “If something like _that _popped up in my inbox on accident, I wouldn’t complain.” 

“Dude. Dude, this is like...this is_ Ignis_. There’s no way he even remotely enjoyed my mistake. I’m never going to be able to look him in the eyes again. I’m telling you, I’m going to have to move,” she whines again. 

“Nah, don’t sweat it. Honest mistake. Send a follow-up email, and don’t think too much about it. Besides...what if he did enjoy them? I know I did.” 

“You’re not helping,” __________ groans. “Okay. I guess I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Good night, ___________,” Gladio says with a laugh as he hangs up. He thinks about texting Ignis, but the draw of his book wins over, and he continues to read, wondering if Ignis actually reacted to the accidental email at all. 

__________ 

“Ooooooh, the lighting in this one is really good, Prompto,” says Noctis as he looks at the camera screen over his best friend’s shoulder. It’s Sunday, which means he’s pretty much got the day off, unless Ignis shows up to cook or clean—but Noct had told Iggy to _please _stay home or go on a date or do something else with his life. He’s so tired, between senior year schoolwork and his increased presence at meetings—Prompto is the only thing that keeps him going and that gives him energy. Well, Prompto, and the recent developments of Ignis and __________, his assistant, who’s been none-too-subtle about her little crush on his adviser. While Ignis has gotten significantly less stuffy about having help, Noctis realizes that it’s going to take a few more pushes to get him to realize what a great woman ___________ really is. Noct has enjoyed having a little feminine touch in his inner circle—she's a good friend, a good cook, and almost always down to play King’s Knight or to jump into a match on online console games when he and Prompto need a healer on their team. She’s so different than anyone else he’s gotten close to over the years, but she has a lot in common with himself and Prompto, and he feels lucky. His dad did good in picking her, he thinks, as he looks closely at the next picture that Prompto scrolls to. 

Speaking of __________, that’s who they’re looking at on Prompto’s camera screen. Sensual lingerie pictures, to be exact, and Noctis can’t help but blush. She doesn’t think she’s pretty because her pants size is in the double-digits, but Noctis would beg to differ. When he’s king, he thinks, he’s going to downright _order _her to think she’s beautiful. This particular photo is from an aerial perspective—she’s wearing a baby blue bra and panty set, and her eyes are closed, arms above her head, one leg half-folded over the other, head turned to the side. 

“Aw, she’s got stretch marks! Just like you, Prom,” Noctis says gently as he leans his head against the side of Prompto’s. 

“Dude,” the blond starts. “C’mon, really? At least hers are like, pretty.” 

“Yours are pretty too. Kinda wanna dress you up in lingerie now so I can have some pictures of my own.” 

“Um.” Prompto turns beet red and flicks to the next picture. It’s a frontal one, and she’s kneeling on the bed in only underwear, and a garter belt that’s holding up thigh-high stockings. This set is red. Her arms are crossed loosely over her chest, ample breasts spilling out on the top, sides, and underneath, leaving little to the imagination. 

“Her breasts look so good at this angle,” says Noctis. Yeah, he might be fucking his best friend who’s a dude, but the prince still very much appreciates the female form. He realizes that he’s going to have to get married and make an heir—he only hopes that his wife is accepting of Prompto as a royal consort. 

“Right? That’s what I said. She didn’t believe me, but I’m photographer so I get the last word,” he laughs, blushing. 

“I wanna squeeze ‘em,” Noctis says quietly. 

“Bro!” Prompto snorts and laughs. 

“They look so soft!” 

“...Okay yeah, I see your point.” 

“What was it like doing this, anyway? I mean, were you like, hard the whole time, or what?” 

“Dude, no. I’m a professional! I’m trying to build my portfolio, and a boudoir shoot is something I hadn’t done. I’m not one of those creeps who can’t photograph a naked woman without trying to make a pass at her. Nudity, or like, almost nudity...it isn’t always porn, y’know. It’s just a body.” 

Noctis nods, oddly proud of Prompto’s maturity here. They go back to looking at the pictures that he’s edited, commenting on the lighting and the angles and the way that a particular color of lace really brings out ___________’s eyes, when the door handle jiggles with the sound of a key going into a lock, and of course Ignis would pick this exact time to walk in, carrying reusable tote bags full of groceries. 

The boys snap their heads up like they’ve just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, and Prompto quickly shoves the camera under the nearest throw pillow that’s on the couch. 

“Hey Iggy!” he squeaks. 

“Specs, thought I told you to take the day off,” Noct says, annoyed. 

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d just top you off with some essentials,” says Ignis, kicking off his shoes, eyebrow raised at the suspicious actions. “Care to share what’s on your camera, Prompto?” 

“Er,” says the blond, turning up to look at Noctis. 

“Just show him, you know he’s gonna find out eventually. I’m not in the mood to argue,” the prince complains as he stands and stretches. 

Prompto gulps and digs his camera back out as Ignis glides over to the couch and cranes his neck. The blood drains from his face instantly as he sees ____________’s photo on the screen. 

“Prompto!” Ignis screeches. “Bloody hell, what is the meaning of this?” 

Prompto winces as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Hey man, it’s not what it looks like! I’m just trying to build up a portfolio, y’know. And when I asked ____________ about maybe doing a boudoir shoot, she told me that she’d always wanted to do one but never had the time or the money. So I offered to do it for free. She said it might help with her self-image and confidence...” Prompto’s voice trails off as he looks back up at Ignis, who’s shaking slightly as he scrolls through the pictures on the camera. 

“I can’t believe _you’re _the one who took these,” he says quietly. “Prompto, do you realize that ____________ now has the same security clearance as myself and Gladio? If these photos were to ever get beyond our eyes, the repercussions...” 

“They’re not going anywhere, Iggy,” Prompto promises. “They’re not online or anything. I printed them out and they’re in a binder with all my other work.” His eyes light up as he sees the emotion play across Ignis’ face. “Do you like them? They turned out really good, right? Isn’t she beautiful?” 

Noctis smirks as he sees Ignis’ jaw clench at the question and looks down at Prompto. 

Ignis swallows slowly. They’ve baited him: hook, line, and sinker. If he says no, they’ll know he’s a liar. If he says yes, it’ll open up a can of worms Ignis isn’t sure he’s ready to deal with publicly. “The photos are a true testament to your skill as a photographer,” Ignis says carefully. “They’re true art, and you should be proud of your talent.” Ignis adjusts his glasses as he hands the camera back to Prompto. He picks up his grocery bags and makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Dammit,” says Noctis. “I thought for sure we had him that time.” 

Prompto sighs and turns off the camera, setting it on the coffee table. 

___________ 

Ignis returns from Noct’s apartment to the sanctity and quiet of his own home, letting out a long sigh as he steps inside and closes the door. He’s barely got his shoes off when his phone chimes from his pocket. 

It's a new email from __________. Ignis momentarily panics, but steels his resolve as he opens it. The body is simple: _Hey Ignis, sorry, attached the wrong file to the email I sent last night. Sorry for my mistake. Here are the reports I worked on! -- ____________ _ And the attached file is appropriately named and dated with the contents Ignis had been expecting—he opens it, just to be sure. He's not sure what to think. Surely, she’s embarrassed as all hell, and she must be hoping that either he didn’t open the files, or had deleted the email after initially seeing that it was sent in error. Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose in defeat, because in reality, he’d done neither one of those things. How was he supposed to ever look her in the eyes again? How was he supposed to act normally, now that he knows what she looks like under her clothes? Ignis types a shaky _thank you _response and sends it. He vows to bring it up first thing tomorrow morning—he cannot afford to be distracted. He’s Noct’s right hand, he’s not supposed to let silly things like emotions and feelings get in the way. He’s entirely dedicated to Noctis—he lives and breathes solely for him. He keeps his body strong, just for him; he cooks and cleans and councils and tutors and loves. Why should some risqué photos of a woman—one that he’s convinced himself that he doesn’t even _like_—make any difference in his life? 

______________ nervously opens the door to Ignis’ office the next morning. She feels herself getting hot even before she makes eye contact with him. Ignis glances up from his computer, then checks his watch—she's only a few minutes late, and he smiles softly in spite of himself, because she’s carrying a drink holder full of coffee, and he can see a brown paper bag sticking up from inside her work tote. 

“Mornin’,” she says casually, trying not to act like anything’s different. She’s _really _hoping that Ignis didn’t see her pictures, or at least all of them. “Uh, here’s coffee.” She sets everything down at her desk, giving one of her little terrariums a turn as she picks up Ignis’ order and brings it to him. 

Ignis tries to will away a blush as she approaches him—she's in a tunic-length purple shirt and tight black pants and black ballet flats. Does she know that Ignis’ favorite color is purple? He reaches out as she hands his coffee and breakfast sandwich over, and their hands touch, and Ignis doesn’t pull away as he makes burning eye contact with her. 

Her eyes dilate and her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and suddenly all Ignis can think is _Cute_, and the thought surprises him. 

“The first email you sent on Saturday night,” Ignis begins. 

“_Shit, _Ignis, I’m so sorry,” she starts to tear up. “I didn’t mean—the documents were right below the other folder, and I—I was tired and I wasn’t paying attention—I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to...to...” her voice trails. What can she say? The object of her late-night fantasies has seen her nearly nude on accident and she’s just waiting to hear him say that she’s fired, that’s it, pack up her stuff, she’ll never work in this town again. 

“_____________.” His voice calmly cuts through her panic. “It’s all right. It was an accident. Besides, it’s come to my knowledge that Prompto helped you take those photos. No harm, no foul.” Ignis lets his face soften. 

“You’re...you’re not going to _fire _me?” she says through big, dolloping tears. 

“Astrals, no,” Ignis says, rising. He rounds his desk and wraps himself around her for a hug, all too aware of the softness of her plush form as he presses her to himself. _I liked them, _Ignis wants to say about the stupid pictures. _I liked them, I saved them, I got myself off to you, multiple times, and I’m not sure how to feel about it_. Ignis wants to say these things, but for once, he’s at a loss for words; and he just holds his assistant tightly until her tears run out. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One apology later...

“It’s nine o’clock,” says Ignis with a yawn. Desks have been abandoned—the chaise lounge is littered with papers and pens, the coffee table holding even more stacks of official documents. You’re cross-legged on the lounge, laptop on a pillow on your lap. One of Ignis’ throws is around your shoulders. You’re in a soft sweater and dark jeans and coeurl-print flats, thanking the Astrals that casual Fridays are a thing. Ignis is on the other side of the lounge, tired green eyes behind clear glasses glazed over as he sips his umpteenth can of Ebony cold brew. His crisp button-up shirt is rolled up to his elbows, top two buttons undone on his chest, teasing you beyond belief. 

If Ignis catches you staring, he says nothing. You meet his tired gaze with a smile. “Who knew the royal finances could be such a pain in the ass, huh?” 

Ignis snorts a half-laugh as he sets the can on the coaster and sets his own laptop aside. “I think we can call it quits for tonight. Let’s resume on Monday.” 

You stretch and grunt. “Oh man, I get tomorrow off? How benevolent,” you tease as you save your open documents and put your computer to sleep. You look back over to Ignis to catch him looking at you with a curious expression. “Uh,” you say, blushing a little, trying and failing to not to look at his exposed skin. “What’s...what’s up?” 

“Perhaps no work tomorrow,” says Ignis slowly, like he’s carefully choosing every word. “But, would you want to have lunch anyway? There’s a new cafe that’s just opened up on the other side of town, and it has stellar reviews.” 

You stare at Ignis. _Is he...asking me on a _date_?! _“I, uh, well…” 

“Unless of course you’re otherwise occupied,” says Ignis quickly, closing his computer and standing. “Forgive the intrusion, I just thought…” 

“Is this a date?” You blurt out, unable to stand this weird dance any longer. You watch as Ignis visibly stiffens, then turns. 

“Just two friends having lunch,” says Ignis, “is hardly a date.” 

“Am I your friend?” you say hopefully, smiling. 

Ignis flashes a shy smile. “If you’d like to be, then yes.” 

“Then yeah, Ignis. Two friends having lunch. Sounds awesome.” 

Ignis nods, turning to pack up his things for the night. “I’ll come pick you up? Eleven?” 

“Okay,” you say, moving to your desk in order to pack up your work tote and your purse. _Friends is good. Friends is _great, you think, happily. If Ignis wants to be your friend, you’re definitely not going to say no. 

The two of you walk out of the Citadel and exchange goodbyes in the parking lot before you climb into your car, tired but happy. Being friends means that Ignis doesn’t hate you anymore. 

  


Even though Ignis had stated that the two of you would not be doing any official work, you pack your tablet into your purse anyway, which has your email and document apps on it, just in case anything comes up—or in case you totally read the situation wrong, and this is a further test of your mettle as an administrative assistant. 

You’re dressed in a long, soft, cotton t-shirt dress, with a trendy necklace and ballet flats and curled hair to complete the look. The ride to the new restaurant is mostly quiet, but over the past few months, you’ve come to realize that Ignis doesn’t mind long interludes of silence, and small talk often wears you out quickly—so you’re grateful that he’s content with only the classical music on public radio during the car ride. 

The cafe isn’t too crowded—it’s about half-full, and Ignis chooses a semi-secluded booth in a quiet corner. After drinks and entrees have been ordered, Ignis leans forward and folds his arms on the table. He’s more dressed down than you’ve even seen him—khakis and a long-sleeve waffle-knit Henley shirt and brown ankle boots. He looks like a model for the latest fall fashions, and you’re wondering if the waitress or anyone else in the cafe thinks that the two of you are a couple. You can’t help but blush a little. 

“What’s up?” 

“Well, I must be honest—my intentions of lunch without work were only half true.” 

“Oh!” You smile and dig in your purse, drawing out your government-issued tablet. “I came prepared—I have my email and my files on the tablet...what do we need to go over?” 

Ignis’ pretty green eyes dart from your face to the tablet, then back again, and his jaw drops slightly. “No, that’s...did you really think I was going to trick you into actually working today?” 

“Oh, no, I just...I thought that if something came up, I’d have it just in case you needed me…” You set the tablet on the seat next to you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…” 

Ignis sighs. “No, it’s my fault.” He clears his throat. “We’re not going to work on Citadel business. We’re going to work on...us.” 

You inhale sharply. _Us? _“I don’t understand...what...am I doing something wrong? Tell me, Ignis. Whatever you need, I’ll do it.” 

“Yesterday I expressed my desire to be your friend, did I not?” 

“Well, yeah. And I’m so glad you did. I mean I know I’m just your secretary, dude, but it’s miserable for the both of us if you hate my guts.” 

“Which, alarmingly, was my initial reaction to this whole arrangement.” 

You chuckle quietly. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe. “But hey, it’s not like I ever blamed you. I was some nobody outsider intruding on stuff you’d been doing forever. You had every right to be like, offended.” 

“But I was a proper arse,” says Ignis, voice suddenly shaky. “It wasn’t _your _fault, after all. It’s not like you volunteered. Regis just plucked some random girl from a random government department, and it just so happened to be you.” He looks down at the table. 

You’re silent, sipping your tea as you let Ignis talk. 

“Without Noct and Gladio calling me out on my abhorrent actions, I don’t know where I’d be. Where you’d be. I had no right to ever talk to you like that. It breached every bit of training I’ve ever received, and nothing I could say can ever justify my harshness towards you.” Ignis sniffs hard. “You have been so patient, and so kind, sticking with me and trying your best for both Noctis and myself, even when your mental health is at its most fragile.” 

Ignis lifts his watery eyes to you, and fuck; he’s so stunning, it’s driving you crazy. If you were just a little more confident—or drunk, or both—you’d lean right over the table and pull him into a kiss. Instead, your jaw drops when Ignis says the next two words. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, completely choking up now. “Will you ever forgive me? I cannot bear to be the cause of your suffering any longer. If your panic attacks are the result of my childish behavior, I will do everything in my power to make it up to you. I want to set things right. I want you to be my partner, not my underling. And I very much want to be your friend, as much as Gadio or Prompto or Noctis.” 

You’re stunned at Ignis’ repentant words and his sudden confession. You can’t help but bite your lip, because _fuck_, the man even _cries _prettily—you reach out to put a warm hand on Ignis' strong arm. “Ignis, I... I want to be your friend, too. Really. And I’ve already forgiven you. I know I’m not the smartest or the best at this, like you are, but...but I want to be good. I want to be good for you, good for Noctis. I want to help him succeed, as future king.” 

Ignis shakes his head. “You are smart—you are so incredibly smart, __________. You’re kind, and funny, and insightful, and hard-working, dedicated even when you’re not feeling your best.” 

You blush and look away—the sudden praise from Ignis is too much to take, and it’s intoxicating. 

“Look at me,” says Ignis gently, and you obey. “Can we start over? Please. I know I have no right to ask such things of you, but…” 

“Hey, Ignis,” you say through quiet tears of your own. “I’m not going anywhere, all right? Whatever you want from me, it’s yours. My friendship, my work…” _My heart_. 

Ignis sighs in relief, as though a ton of weight has just been lifted from his shoulders. “I barely even acknowledged your birthday,” he says regretfully. “I’m so sorry.” 

You feel your face getting hot. “Oh, it’s--that’s okay? I mean it was a work day anyway, and I didn’t really do anything special until the weekend…” 

“The boys showered you with gifts,” says Ignis slowly. “Gladio bought you flowers.” 

“Which I _told _them not to do, I didn’t want a big fuss made at work...I’m sorry that I didn’t get much done that day.” 

Ignis shakes his head. “Your birthday only comes once a year. I should’ve let you go home early.” 

You smile. “What’s done is done, man. It’s okay.” 

“I don’t...I don’t deserve you,” Ignis murmurs, eyes darting down to where your hand is still on his forearm. 

You blush even more and look away, not sure how to respond. This is such uncharted territory. You’ve only ever seen Ignis get emotional when it comes to Noct’s personal affairs, so to have this emotion and care suddenly extend to you is mind-blowing. 

Thankfully, the bubbly oblivious waitress returns with your food, so the rest of your time at the restaurant is filled with talk of the food, and whether splitting the warm peach cobbler is a good idea. 

____________ 

  


It’s a rainy Tuesday, and this time Ignis is the one in the large workroom on the floor below, making copies. It’s nearly three; you’re on your way to pick up Noctis and haul him back to the Citadel. Ignis is caught up in his own thoughts, feeling oddly at peace, when the idle chatter behind him reaches his ears. 

“Yes, they really _should _make standard for how women dress,” says one hyper-masculine voice—Ignis knows the type, and he rolls his eyes. “So many females around here who don’t even wear makeup, or stilettos...what ever happened to how they dress anyway? All this fuckin’ progressive feminist shit.” 

“I’m totally with you,” says the second chad. “Like...oh, what’s-her-face, used to work in urban development, got shifted to a cushy spot working for the prince’s dog, Scientia...” 

“Oh, shit, __________, yeah I know her. Like really. If she put more effort into how she looked it’d be better. You think his Highness would care about who he has in his personal circles.” 

“Then again,” says the second voice, “it’d be like putting lipstick on a pig, so what’s the point?” 

The laughter that follows burns Ignis’ ears, and he swipes his copies from where the machine’s spat them out, storming from the workroom and into the nearest elevator, pressing the _close door _button, not even caring if he’s inconveniencing anyone important. The angry tears are forming before he realizes it, and not just from the two low-level dickheads in the workroom degrading women in general—but that they see fit to insult someone so personally, someone that Ignis _knows_, someone that Noctis himself considers a _friend_—it's got Ignis hot under the collar, and by the time he storms back into his office, he slams the door and throws the papers on his desk and summons a dagger from the Armiger, launching it at the wall behind your desk, lodging it to the hilt in painted wood and drywall. 

He runs his head through his hair, moving it up and away from his forehead as he dematerializes the weapon in the wall, then summons it again to his hand—and throws a second time—then repeats the action three, four times—he's lost count, now—he’s so angry and he knows he’s destroying the wall but it’s the only thing keeping him from going back down to the workroom and _killing _the misogynistic vermin therein. He’s only vaguely aware as the office door clicks open and you enter, Noctis in tow. 

You stop suddenly, causing the prince to run into you. 

“Wha...why’d you..._Iggy_,” Noct’s voice is suddenly panicked as he sees his adviser making a righteous mess of the office wall. 

The dagger lands deep again with a dull thud, and this time, Ignis leaves it, turning finally to the company that’s entered the room. 

Noctis notices his adviser’s state and immediately goes to him, reaching up to fix his hair, adjust his glasses, thumb under his eyes where tears have long lain dry. Noctis cups his face so tenderly and bids Ignis look at him, and they whisper to each other so intimately that you just numbly turn to the door and shut it, then go over to the chaise and sit, busying yourself with a couple of new emails that have come in, when you hear your name spoken. 

You turn, eyes full of worry at what’s made Ignis so emotional. He looks to be on the verge of tears again and your heart suddenly aches. “Hey, Ignis, what’s wrong?” You rise and round the lounge to go to him, taking one of his big, strong hands between yours. 

Ignis relaxes a little at your touch. He looks to Noctis, then back to you. “My apologies, I did not mean to concern either one of you,” he murmurs, suddenly embarrassed. 

“Specs, what’s got you so worked up?” Noctis bites his bottom lip. 

“Earlier this afternoon, I overheard some disturbing conversation, is all. From two gentlemen whom I don’t know personally; they were saying rather degrading things about women, and women’s rights.” Ignis hangs his head. “___________, they mentioned you specifically. Said things about your appearance.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, remembering the conversation you’d overheard several months prior, shortly after you starting working with Ignis. “You don’t have to tell me if you want to—I'm pretty sure I can guess. Probably the same shit I used to hear in high school.” 

“Just because you’re used to it doesn’t make it right or fair,” says Noctis firmly. He turns to Ignis. “You said you don’t know them, Iggy? Maybe we can check the security cameras and find out. If they’re going to talk about her like that, or about any woman, I want them gone. They don’t deserve to work for my dad.” 

Ignis nods. “I can check the security cameras in the morning.” His pretty green eyes soften. “I’m sorry you had to see me in such a state—I was quite overcome with rage. I apologize.” 

You chuckle as you let his hand finally drop from your own. “Hey, no—it's cool! Uh, thanks for getting so worked up over my honor, or whatever? And they say chivalry is dead.” 

That draws quiet chuckles from both Noctis and Ignis. The prince hugs his adviser, then bids the two of you goodbye as he heads off to the Citadel training grounds. 

Ignis looks at you again once Noctis is gone. “We’ll find out who they are and have them removed posthaste,” Ignis promises. “I won’t stand for it. Besides, there is nothing wrong with how you look.” 

You can’t help but blush at the offhanded compliment. “Oh, uh, thanks. It’s really no big deal, but I’m not going to stop you if you think they’ve really violated some code of ethics or whatever. And, y’know, back when I first started, I overheard...stuff...about you. And me. Like, they were trash-talking both of us like we were the lowest of the low. Like we’re just Noct’s _servants_. Which, I mean, okay maybe we _are_, but he doesn’t...he’s kind, y’know? He listens to us. He lets us help him when it comes to all this political stuff. He doesn’t make us lick his boots. And anyway, that’s how it came off...I didn’t tell you ‘cause I didn’t want to make you mad or start a fuss, you were still pretty pissed that I was even here in the first place. But it’s not the first time I’ve heard it.” You look down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I didn’t want you to be mad that people were saying those things, because I think you’re the greatest person who works for the Crown, personally. I mean...if my opinion means anything. And Noct thinks you’re pretty great too, so.” You look back up to Ignis and smile. “So don’t take it to heart, okay? If Noct thinks we’re doing okay, then that’s all that matters. I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m ugly, anyway.” You shrug. “Kinda used to it.” 

Ignis’ heart shatters at your self-deprecation, and he’s still in shock that you’ve kept all of these insults—insults aimed at _him_, no less—to yourself, in order to..._protect _him? He shakes his head in disbelief. As chivalrous as he thought he’d been moments ago, your revelation has just topped anything he can do or say further. “You’re not—not ugly,” Ignis finally manages to get out. 

“Oh-oh. Um, thanks...thanks dude. That means a lot, coming from you.” You mean it—Ignis is beautiful, from his face to his body to his clothes. He deserves to be surrounded by beautiful things, always—and you feel like a dirty stain on his aesthetic. “But I mean, would... would it help for me to wear more makeup? Or different makeup?” You look down at your plain nails. “I don’t have a lot of money for manicures, but I can try to keep my nails painted every week; I do own polish, y’know--it just chips so easily...” 

Ignis shakes his head, wondering how he can voice his opinions without revealing too much of how he feels. “The Crown can expense any cosmetic enhancements to your appearance,” Ignis explains. “If we’re insisting that this is necessary to keep up with Noct’s public image, and if we go through the proper channels, it won’t be an issue. Astrals know that I couldn’t afford half of my own wardrobe on my own. I’ll email the council about it right away. Though...it’s still not fair. I haven’t had an issue with how you dress or look, and neither has Noct.” 

You shrug. “I know I’m not the prettiest, but I mean, y’know, makeup and a blowout and a manicure could still do small wonders,” you laugh, turning to go back to your desk. You duck under the giant dagger that’s still lodged in the wall as you sit, booting your laptop back up. “Uh. Need me to go to the hardware store for some spackle and paint?” 

Ignis sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “Later, if you like—we can go together. After dinner, perhaps?” 

You nod, eyes twinkling. “Sure thing, dude.” 

Ignis dissolves the dagger back into the Armiger and sits at his desk again, thinking about the last time he’s seen you with professional hair and makeup—in your boudoir photoshoot...and he shivers. 

__________ 

A couple of weeks later, and fall has come to Insomnia in full swing. You’re still getting used to it all, but you’re getting manicures every week now, regular haircuts and blowouts; and you have a makeup routine written down and illustrated for you that you follow to the letter, every morning. It means an extra thirty minutes of prep time, but Ignis lets you come in at seven o’clock now; and as far as you know, your appearance and style isn’t an issue anymore. Supposedly, Ignis had looked at the security footage from the workroom that day and Citadel HR had identified the workers, and well—after having the Crown Prince vouch for what he’d overheard, the two individuals in question were promptly let go. Gladio has been very vocal about your new look, especially in front of Ignis, who has to push him out of the office even more so than before. You’re not sure if Gladio’s still low-key flirting with you to make Ignis jealous—or if it’s even working; or if he’s really trying to win you over for himself—but at any rate, you’re enjoying the new look and the new attention. You’d even pulled a little cash from your savings and hit some sales on some new clothes. Noctis and Prompto are very approving of your new look as well, Prompto practically begging to do another photo shoot with you. 

And Ignis, well. The two of you have gotten a lot closer and friendlier; and for that, you’re incredibly grateful. The work is easier, now, and Noctis is gradually stepping up to more royal duties. The three of you have established a more comfortable rhythm with each other, and you find yourself hanging around them even outside of work hours. 

One late evening, you’re packing up your things—it's seven, and you and Ignis have finished with the day’s tasks. You smile in contentment—you're tired, but it’s been a good day, and you and Ignis had eaten your weight in sushi for dinner, one of your favorites. You give the chocobo plush on your desk a little squeeze, rearrange your terrarium collection—Noctis had gotten you two more for your birthday—and do a mental check as you scan your desk for anything you’d left. You look up to see Ignis standing beside you, driving gloves and blazer on, ready to go. He’s looking at you with a curious expression that you just can’t place. 

“What’s up Iggy?” And suddenly you practically slap yourself in the face as you clap a hand over your mouth at the use of the casual nickname—you've never said it before, although you’ve so desperately wanted to. 

Ignis’ face goes through about a hundred different emotions, but before he can reply, you correct yourself. 

“Shit man, I’m sorry—that's really too casual, that’s what the guys call you—I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to, it’s late, I wasn’t thinking...” You turn your head away in sudden embarrassment. 

“It’s all right, really, _________,” Ignis says calmly and quietly—how can you know that he’s melting inside? “We’re friends, are we not? I do not mind the moniker at all.” 

You slowly meet his soft gaze. “You’re—you’re sure? That’s okay with you?” 

Ignis nods. He suddenly feels hot under the collar, and if he were a braver man, he’d... “A while back—Gladio said something—and of course, it’s not my business—” Ignis doesn’t understand why he’s getting so tongue-tied. He takes a deep breath. “For a short while, I was under the impression that you and Gladio were an item, but he said that you turned him down, because your affections lied elsewhere.” 

You feel your face heating up, but Ignis’ intense, beautiful gaze has you hypnotized. Your heart rate begins to go into overdrive. You nod slowly. “Yeah, he—he just asked me out on a date and I said no, that I liked someone else.” In spite of your nervousness, you tilt your head out in interest. “Would it have been a problem if we had been seeing each other?” 

Ignis adjusts his glasses. “No, not at all. I was just thinking, I’ve never heard you mention a significant other. You’ve never turned down any request from me or Noctis with the excuse of having a date—and well, I was wondering, if it’s not too forward of me, to ask who it is that you’re attracted to? If they aren’t aware of your feelings, perhaps I could help you? Or one of the others, if you’d prefer?” Ignis doesn’t know why he’s saying all of these stupid things. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for—he's daft if he thinks you're going to just fall into his arms after everything he’s put you through, even though he’d apologized. He knows he doesn’t deserve you—he thinks that maybe helping you get with someone else will help with the guilt he’s still carrying. 

You open your mouth to speak, then shut it again. You’re screaming to yourself to just _tell him_, for gods’ sake, and quit dancing around the subject like a giddy, immature schoolgirl. But on the other hand, the lifelong voice of self-deprecation and anxiety is telling you that no matter how friendly you and Ignis have gotten, that he’d _definitely _dismiss you if he knew how you felt about him—how you got yourself off almost every night to the fantasy of having him in your bed. The tears start to come too easily, threatening to ruin your carefully-applied eye makeup. You sniff hard and turn away. “I’m sorry, Ignis, I...I can’t tell you.” 

“But why?” 

You wrap your arms around yourself as a makeshift security blanket, trying desperately to shrink out of existence. If Ifrit pulled you down into a fiery hell right now, you’d be more than grateful. Words are escaping you—all you can do is shake your head in panic, hoping that Ignis will just drop the subject. 

“Do I know this person?” 

The tears are coming down in buckets now, and you’re powerless to stop them. You don’t want to tell Ignis about your monster crush on him—but you also don’t want to lie to him, either. “It doesn’t matter,” you say finally, voice quiet and hoarse. “He’s way out of my league and he’d never want me like that, and... He’s—he’s everything that I’m not, and I’m content just to be his friend.” 

“It doesn’t sound like you’re content,” Ignis says as he steps closer and gathers you into his arms. 

Normally, you’d have no qualms about burying yourself in Ignis’ broad chest to cry, but your face full of makeup makes you hesitate. “I’m sorry, Ignis—don't want to get powder and lipstick all over your clothes...” 

“A job for the dry cleaners, think nothing of it,” he says as he puts his hand on the back of your head and pulls you flush against him. He holds you there with every ounce of strength that he has. It’s tearing him apart to see you this upset, and he’s trying not to hate himself for bringing it up in the first place. 

After a long while, the tears seem to run out, and you lift your head, wincing at the lipstick and smudged foundation on Ignis’ crisp blazer. You’re sure that you must look like a raccoon, black eyeliner smudged all to hell around your eyes, makeup fading and lipstick framing your lips like a clown’s. If your appearance is comical, Ignis doesn’t comment. His hand is still resting lightly on the back of your neck, and you’re hyperaware of the expensive imported leather on your skin. 

Ignis looks down at you with concern. “Better?” 

You shrug. Not really—but being held by Ignis is always a nice thing. “Well—the hugs are always nice, so...thanks.” 

“I must admit that I’m not the most physical person in the world, but if the closeness helps you through your bouts of panic, then I am more than happy to assist.” 

You nod and sniff, thumbing under your eyes. “Is my makeup like, smudged all to shit?” 

Ignis smiles. “No darling, it’s quite intact.” And then he stops, and he feels his cheeks get hot in spite of himself. 

You stare at him, dumbfounded, at the pet name. _Iggy _is one thing—all of the guys call him that. But..._darling_? Unsure of how to respond, you brush it off, trying to ignore the stupid thrill that’s just run from your toes to the tops of your ears. “Oh—okay, um. Thanks. I’ll just—it's time to go, huh? Sorry I freaked out and kept you late.” You attempt to wiggle out of Ignis’ grip, but he’s not budging. 

“Oh, to hell with it,” you hear him mutter—and then without warning, his full, perfect lips descend upon yours, and the world melts away. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all already know what it is

You can’t help but make breathy moans into Ignis’ hot mouth as he kisses you. You’re unsure of where to put your hands, finally choosing to settle them flat on his broad chest. One of his gloved hands is still gripping the back of your hair, holding your face against his—the other is around your waist, holding you flush against him. The kiss is slow and chaste at first, and Ignis attempts to pull away, but you surge forward and meet his lips again, opening up for him and becoming fully pliant. Ignis takes the hint and becomes more purposeful in his movement, and you meet every flick of tongue with equal intensity. 

Ignis kisses you for what seems like hours; but realistically, you know it’s only been a few minutes. When he comes up for air, finally, his face is flushed and his glasses are fogged and his hair is matted to his sweaty forehead. You look up at him, dazed—you can’t imagine how smudged your makeup is _now_. 

“I’m quite in love with you,” says Ignis with conviction. 

You choke back a sob and put your hand over your mouth. It’s impossible. You shake your head. It can’t be—“You can’t be serious,” you find yourself saying, despite the fact that you’ve just made out with him. You fall back into your desk chair, stunned. 

Ignis sinks to his knees immediately and cups your face in his gloved hands. “I_ am _serious. Do you think I just go around kissing people willy-nilly?” 

“No,” you mutter, eyes darting to the side and away from his stare. 

“Look at me, darling. Please.” 

_ Darling_. “If you keep calling me that, Ignis, I...” 

“Darling,” he breathes again. “I _do _love you, most ardently. And I am a bloody fool for not realizing it sooner, and an even bigger fool for ever treating you as anything less than a proper goddess.” 

Your eyes snap back to meet his. You’re hot, too hot for comfort, and blood is coursing so fast and euphoric through your veins that your heartbeat sounds deafening. You feel the corners of your eyes getting wet again. 

“It wasn’t one big thing,” Ignis continues, voice calm. “It was all of the little things. You have wedged yourself under my very skin, wrapped yourself around my heart in ways that I thought impossible for anyone else other than his Highness. I find myself consumed with thoughts of you, and I find myself making any excuse to stay in your company.” 

You close your eyes and sniff hard. The tears are streaming down your face now, and you can feel your nose getting stopped up. It’s too surreal for words, and if Ignis keeps talking like this— 

“Do you wish to know a secret? Your photos, the ones you had Prompto help you with. When you accidentally emailed them to me, I was at war with myself. I know I should have deleted them, but the vision of you, splayed out on your bed, wrapped in silk and lace like a gift from the Astrals themselves...I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I lost count of how many times I looked at them while touching myself. And I while want to be sorry for being so selfish, I’m truly not. You are _divine_.” 

You find yourself crying harder at his revelation. “Iggy,” you say, finally voice wrecked. “It’s-it’s _you_, it’s you, it's always been you. I’ve been in love with you since the first day I met you,” you say through blubbering tears. “I have yearned for you all this time, desperate for your approval, and I...just wanted you to look at me. I... everything I do has _always _been for you...” 

“Oh, love,” whispers Ignis. “I am not worthy of such grace. What a delicate creature you are, such a beautiful soul...” 

You shake your head. “No, _no_, Ignis, it’s...I’m not worthy of you...I’m not pretty enough...or-or smart, I’m just a common girl, I...” 

“You are gorgeous, and_ brilliant_,” Ignis interrupts. “And if it takes a lifetime for me to convince you of that, then it’s a price I’ll willingly pay.” 

You’re too flustered and emotional to say anything else, and all you can think about is kissing Ignis again, so you lean forward catch his lips with yours. 

Ignis moans low in his throat as he opens up for you, letting you take the lead. The taste of him is intoxicating, his lips are so _soft_; you lose yourself in the passionate movement of lips moving against lips and your exploring tongues. His hands are still cupping your face, and they’re shaking—you lean more against him, careful to stay seated in your chair and not fall, and card your fingers through his sandy blond hair. 

_ That _draws another moan from Ignis as he draws away, lips kiss-swollen and delirious with pleasure. “_Astrals_, ___________, you’ve ruined me...” He drops his hands, finally, and clears this throat. “Would you want to continue this at my apartment?” 

You blink at him in surprise. “You...you _want _me?” 

Ignis lifts an eyebrow and smirks. “Perhaps you missed the part where I admitted to touching myself to your photos?” 

You swallow thickly. “Uh-um, no, I...I heard that, I just...I...” 

Ignis snaps to almost instantly. “Forgive me. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop.” He smiles softly. “Though, I must say that it’s quite refreshing to hear that my affections are returned.” 

You shake your head and wipe your eyes, certain now that you must look like a raccoon. “No, Ignis, I don’t want to stop, I _want _to be with you, I’m just...it’s a lot, you know.” You meet his gaze again and smile weakly. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long time since I was involved with anyone, and I’m just...nervous.” You chuckle quietly. “So-sorry.” 

“No need to be sorry, love. I will do everything I can to make you comfortable. Do you _want _to come home with me?” 

“Oh, yeah, yes, very much.” 

“Very well.” Ignis stands and holds out his hand. You take it, and he draws you into a tight hug, and you feel him press a kiss to your hair. “Come, let’s go to the car.” 

You and Ignis pack up your things and make your way to the Citadel parking lot. He inputs his address into your phone, kisses you again, and climbs into his own vehicle, leaving you to put your keys in the ignition and follow him. 

Ignis lives in a modest high-rise apartment not far from Noct’s neighborhood. You park in the parking garage and meet him by the elevator, and together, the two of you ride up to Ignis’ floor. Of course, there’s more making out in the elevator; and then Ignis is tugging you by the hand down the hall, slotting his key into the lock, and pulling you inside, barely getting the door shut before he’s pushing you up against it, grinding himself against you as he assaults your mouth again. 

You can’t help but moan at his intense need. He’s making no movement to hide his arousal, he’s asymmetrical to you, with his legs on either side of your thick thigh, pushing himself into you and groaning into your mouth at the friction. You’re shaking, feeling so incredibly weak and overwhelmed with pleasure and anticipation, chest heaving and short of breath. 

Ignis breaks the kiss to nip along kisses along your jawline and down your neck until he’s sucking a bruise into that soft junction of neck and shoulder. You cry out and your hands fly into his hair, but he’s insatiable. One of his hands has come up to knead your breast while the other is flat against the door, holding himself up. 

You grab his wrist and move the hand on your chest to your neck and squeeze, inhaling sharply as your airflow is slightly restricted. _That _gets Ignis’ attention as he lifts his head and looks at you, eyes darting to your hand resting on his own hand around your neck. 

“Oh?” he asks, half-teasing. “You like this?” 

You manage to swallow and nod as you drop your hand, leaving just Ignis’ large fingers around your throat. “The...your gloves...” you squeak. “I think about...you choking me while wearing the gloves.” You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you divulge the one of many fantasies you have about the man in front of you. 

Ignis’ eyes widen in surprise and he tests it—he closes his hand harder around your neck and applies more pressure, until he sees the begging look in your eyes and relaxes his hand, but doesn’t pull away. “Astrals,” he breathes, giddy with this new revelation. “How _perfect _you are, __________. Would you care to provide me a list of other turn-ons?” 

“Ha,” you say. “How long you got? A list of what doesn’t turn me on would be a lot shorter, trust me.” 

Ignis hums in approval, then tightens his hand around your throat again, holding it for several seconds before letting you go. He’s dizzy with the power that you’re giving him, and he’s hard as diamonds. He knows it’s way past time to move this from the foyer to the bedroom. 

“Well,” you manage to choke out. “I’ve thought about you bending me over your desk in the office, fucking me all over those stupid council reports. Or, or you’re on the phone with some minister of state and I crawl under your desk and start to suck you off, and you have to keep talking, like nothing’s happening...” 

“Oh, you’re quite naughty, aren’t you?” Ignis knows he’s as red as a Leiden tomato. To think that this entire time, he could’ve been having as much sex as he wanted...he’s desperate to make up lost ground. “We should’ve just stayed at the office, then.” 

“I think about wearing lingerie under my work clothes, sending you pictures while you’re in meetings or in training, not being able to immediately do anything about it...” 

“Oh, kitten,” says Ignis; and the new pet name makes your already-wet core throb with want. He himself is delirious with pleasure, and he dives back in for a kiss, applying slight pressure to your neck as he claims your mouth again. 

You whine into his mouth as Ignis kisses you for the umpteenth time this evening—realistically, you think you could probably kiss him forever, with maybe a few water breaks here and there. He pulls away finally and reluctantly drops his hand. 

“Bedroom,” he groans, eyes blown out with lust, glasses fogged up again. He stands on his own weight and turns. “This way.” 

You follow Ignis down a hallway, barely registering the color of paint on the walls or the ornate furniture, until he stops inside of a doorway and flicks on a light. He turns, then, and bends at his knees—and suddenly he’s _lifting _you, bridal style, barely breaking a sweat as he carries you and sets you gently on his bed. 

You stare at him in awe, ready to cry all over again. “You...you _carried _me, Iggy...I...” 

“Despite what you may think, you are not too big for my arms, love. I may not be as bulky as Gladiolus, but I am quite strong.” 

You choke back a sob and nod. 

Ignis smiles and turns to his bedside table, opening a drawer and pulling out a condom and a small bottle of lube. You watch as he begins to strip, folding each article of clothing on a small armchair. By the time he’s down to just his boxers and dress socks, you’re practically salivating. He turns, whole body flushed under your gaze. “Now, this is hardly fair,” he purrs as he saunters to the bed—and all you can look at are his sharp hipbones, the curves of his pecs, the dips of his abs, how much longer his legs look unburdened by cloth. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, kitten.” 

Despite being drunk with arousal, you smirk. “I think it’s plenty fair, seeing as how you already know what I look like in my underwear.” 

Ignis stops dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open in surprise before letting out a full-bodied laugh. 

Gods, he’s so beautiful. You’re still having trouble believing that this is real. Your eyes flick down, and—_nope, _that’s _definitely _real. Your mouth waters even more. You can see the outline of his length through his shorts, and shit, he’s big. You wouldn’t expect anything less. 

Ignis catches you staring as he comes down from laughing and smirks. “Do I pass inspection?” 

You blush and meet his gaze again. “What the hell kind of question is that, Ignis,” you mutter. “You’re like, a wet dream.” You motion with your hands. “All of you.” 

Ignis blushes in spite of himself. “I—thank you. I try not to be vain, but I’m very proud of my body. I am in the service of the Crown, after all.” 

You nod. “You should be. It’s...you’re perfect.” 

“Well, so are you. Come now. Can I see you? Pictures are one thing, but they can hardly be compared with flesh and blood.” Ignis holds out his hand and helps you from the bed. 

You strip out of your dress pants and blouse and loafers, until you’re just in your plain black bra and underwear. 

“A goddess,” Ignis says again. He puts his hands on your shoulders and scratches lightly along the straps, making you shiver. “Might I do the honors?” 

You nod, turning to let Ignis unclasp your bra. You pull it off and add it to your pile of clothes on the floor. 

“Magnificent,” Ignis murmurs as he cups one heavy breast between his long, smooth fingers. 

You close your eyes and let the goosebumps wash over you, relishing in his touch. “Iggy,” you breathe. “I can’t...I can’t wait anymore...” 

“Neither can I.” Ignis traces down your breast, to your stomach, finally stopping at the elastic hem of your panties. “These have got to go.” 

You tentatively place your fingers on Ignis’ muscled stomach and draw light circles in the soft happy trail that runs from his belly button to the edge of his boxers. “So do yours.” 

It’s almost a rush to see who can take off their underwear first, but as you see it, both of you are winning, here. You climb on the bed and lie on your back, knees bent, as you watch Ignis tear open a condom and roll it on his length, following with a liberal coating of lubricant. He takes his glasses off and folds them carefully on the nightstand, and finally follows you onto the mattress. 

“My word, you’re a vision,” Ignis says as he grabs at your hips and pulls you forward, positioning you how he wants. 

“Psh, says the hot one,” you giggle. 

“I thought you were the hot one,” Ignis teases as he grabs the base of his gorgeously thick cock and rubs at your entrance. “Are you quite ready for me, darling?” 

You nod. “Please,” you beg. “All of the kissing we’ve done, your words...I need you, Iggy. Fuck me. I'm ready.” 

Ignis smiles and lifts your hips with one hand as he guides himself in slowly. He hangs his head and grunts in pleasure as you feel him push the first few inches of his length inside of you. 

You close your eyes and moan, not even bothering to bite back the lewd noises escaping your throat. 

“You feel so bloody good, __________,” Ignis grunts as he rocks his hips. “So tight, so wet for me...” 

You open your eyes halfway just to see the amazing sight that is Ignis, flushed and naked, above you, hard cock reaching into the deepest parts of you. “Shit, baby, _please_,” you beg. “I can take it, c’mon. Use this pussy. It’s all for you, Iggy, please...” 

“Gods, the sounds you make,” Ignis cries as he snaps his hips forward and bottoms out, causing the both of you to scream in tandem. He leans down over you and kisses you roughly as he slams his hips in a repeated motion, rocking you to your core. 

You lose track of time, delirious with pleasure. You don’t come often just from penetration alone, but Ignis has coaxed at least one orgasm from you, and at this point, you’re shaking at sweaty, body moving of its own accord, hips rocking in sync as Ignis fucks you. His stamina is amazing, because of course it is—you know that he and Gladio and Noct train for _hours_, so naturally, the physical strength that he’s got translates into sex. You’re still shy, but you’ve managed to keep your eyes half-open for the most part, drinking in every facial expression that comes across his stunning face. His eyes are so much more beautiful without his glasses. You lift up one hand to trace along his collarbone—that patch of skin that he’s teased you with on so many late nights, when the blazer gets hung on the back of the chair, and the shirt sleeves get rolled up to his elbows—and down, gripping one of his pecs, squeezing, ghosting lightly over one nipple and tweaking it. 

“Astrals, ___________, you’re so _good _for me,” Ignis whines, breathless. “Your touch, the sounds you make...” 

You swallow thickly and moan. “You gonna come for me Iggy? Fuck, baby, you fuck me so good, please, _please_, wanna feel you...fuck, Iggy...” 

Ignis feels the familiar tight coil of arousal pool low in his belly, and he knows he’s close. “Beg for me, darling, I’m close,” he manages to say as he speeds up, thrusts getting erratic, wet squelching sounds of your bodies ringing loud in the quiet of the evening. 

“_Please _ , baby, fuck me,” you gasp again. “I’ve thought about this _so _much, I get myself off to you almost every night since we’ve worked together, I’ve always imagined what this would be like...you’re so gorgeous, Iggy, I love you so much...” 

Ignis comes with a loud moan, dropping to his forearms and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he shudders, giving a last few lazy thrusts as he feels you squeeze your muscles around him, milking him for all he’s worth. 

You bring your arms up to his back and pull him down, easing his full weight onto you as you feel him grunt and pull out of your dripping pussy. He feels boneless and utterly spent. He wedges his arm between the two of you and pulls the condom from his softening cock, sitting up only to tie it in a knot and fling it over the bedside, crashing down on top of you again, resting his head between your breasts. 

You hum in approval, carding your fingers through his soft hair, trying to get your breath back to an acceptable rhythm. You feel Ignis purse his lips and press a small kiss to the side of your breast, and then he’s up on his forearms again, staring at you in a daze. 

“You,” he breathes, “are _incredible_.” 

“Uh,” you say, giggling, closing your eyes as you try to process the entire evening up to this point. “You too?” 

“I’ve never come that hard in my life,” Ignis confesses. “You’ve utterly ruined me.” 

“Mmmmmm, well—I'm not going anywhere, so like, prepare yourself to get ruined even more?” You open your eyes again to look at him. 

“All those secret desires that you have—I cannot wait to execute them.” 

“Oh—shit, dude, me neither,” you laugh. “So uh, are we—y'know, are we a thing, now? Dating? Do you want to date me?” 

“If you’ll have me, love,” whispers Ignis as he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. 

Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind that dampens the mood. “Oh man, I bet—I bet there’s protocols and stuff about workplace romances, huh? Conflict of interest, that sort of thing?” 

Ignis nods. “You’re quite right. However, the guidelines say nothing about what we do in our private lives. We could simply just keep it a secret from everyone.” 

“Even Noct and Prom and Gladio? Really?” 

Ignis smirks. “Let’s see how long it takes for them to figure it out, eh?” 

You giggle. “Oh man, you’re pretty evil.” 

“Nonsense. I hardly think a daemon would have wrecked you so deliciously.” Ignis lays his head back down on your chest. “You’re so bloody soft, it’s unreal.” 

You chuckle under Ignis’ weight. “Uh, you’re welcome?” 

After several more minutes of cuddling, Ignis finally drags himself from the bed. “Come, darling. Shower? Then perhaps a light meal. I’m quite famished.” 

“Fucked all of your energy away, huh?” you tease as you slide off the bed and follow him to the bathroom. “Oh, nice! Look at your big walk-in shower.” 

“Big enough for two,” Ignis teases as he leans in and turns the knob, keeping his hand under the water flow until he deems it an acceptable temperature. He steps aside and gestures. “Ladies first.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuhhh...random shit? I don't even know. I'm so sorry if this feels disjointed. 
> 
> The bros start to try and figure out if you're together; one of your office fantasies comes true; a little snippet of domestic fluff.

“I’m _tellin' _ya, there’s something going on between those two,” Gladio insists as he sweeps his broadsword at Noct, who does an awkward backflip-warp-thing to get away, reappearing in a flash of blue a few feet to the side. 

“Nah, you’re seeing things,” Noct says as he twirls his sword and readies his stance again. “But I mean, so what if there is? Isn’t that what we’ve all been gunnin’ for anyway?” 

Gladio’s mostly over it, but—it still hurts a little. He thinks ____________ is so beautiful and kind and smart; and while he’s really rooting for Ignis to be the man Gladio knows he can be, the shield is still kind of wishing that she’d accepted his offer of a date all those weeks ago. “Yeah,” he says quietly. 

The big guy has never been the master of subtlety, and Noctis drops his sword as soon as Gladio hesitates on the attack. “Dude, I’m—sorry.” 

Gladio shrugs. “It’s okay, Princess. I just wasn’t it, y’know? It just really...Iggy could be so much better. I just hope he sees how wrong he’s been.” 

Noctis nods and lets his sword go back into the Armiger, stepping up to Gladio and placing a hand on his bare shoulder. “Let’s get cleaned up. Dinner at Kenny Crow’s, with me and Prom?” 

Gladio smiles softly and dismisses his broadsword. “Sure, Noct. Thanks.” 

_________ 

“Yes, your Majesty, I understand,” says Ignis, quietly, voice eerily calm and level in spite of what’s happening. “I shall go check Noctis out of school immediately.” There’s more talking from the king on the other end of the phone, and Ignis nods, voicing affirmation when prompted. One hand is furiously scribbling notes on his notepad, along with random doodles in the margins. 

The other hand is on top of your head, under the desk, fingers gripped in tight in your loose waves—but the state of your hair is last thing you’re concerned about. You’re trying to keep the lewd slurping sounds to a minimum, but you can’t help but moan and lavish Ignis’ cock with your tongue. The only thing about him that’s undone is the fly on his trousers, and you’re on your knees under his desk, hands placed on his clothed thighs, head bobbing as you do your best to suck him dry. 

The morning had started off innocently enough. You’d come in, carrying your usual breakfast order for yourself and Ignis. The two of you had attended a relatively short council meeting first thing; it’d ended before lunch, and the two of you had locked yourselves in the office, sitting on the chaise lounge as you ate, shoulders touching, Ignis’ arm around your shoulder and your hand on his thigh in the aftermath. A short bout of kissing had followed, but Ignis had broken if off before he found himself too far gone, and the two of you had worked at your own desks, doing nothing more than casting longing glances at each other from across the room. 

Until now. 

You steel yourself and take him all the way in, letting the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You stay there for several seconds before your gag reflex kicks in, and you pull off of him and take several deep breaths before hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard on the head. You can feel Ignis’ thighs quaking, despite the low baritone of his voice staying even while he speaks with Regis. You hear him gasp, then quickly recover and explain it away—and then his white hot release suddenly hits your tongue, and you scramble to take more of his length into your mouth. His fingers grip your hair tighter as he bucks his hips and milks himself in your mouth, and you guzzle it all down, humming in approval. 

Ignis goes soft moments later, and his grip relaxes—he’s still on the phone, speaking to Regis. You lap up all of his spend and finally let him out of your mouth, and you reverently tuck him back into his boxer briefs and pants, zipping and buttoning them and buckling his belt. You don’t move from under the desk; you stay on your knees until you hear Ignis bid the king goodbye. He rolls his chair back and gazes down at you, cheeks flushed, bangs ruffled and sweaty across his forehead, green eyes wide with arousal, mouth open and panting as he comes down from his high. 

The sight of him above you, knowing that _you’re _the one who took him apart, is giving you the biggest confidence boost of your life. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Ignis growls. “Seeing you on your knees like this... I could almost go again.” 

“Thought you had to pick Noctis up from school,” you tease as you crawl on all fours out from under the desk, smoothing your dress as you stand. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Ignis says as he fixes his hair and adjusts his pants. “But that’s not saying we can’t continue this after I return, if you’re a good girl and do all the work that you’re supposed to.” He stands and straightens his tie, putting on his gloves and grabbing his keys from the top right desk drawer. 

You eye his gloved hands hungrily as he cups your chin and lifts your head, kissing you softly, groaning just a little as he tastes himself in your mouth. He pulls away and trails one free hand from your ear to your throat, squeezing gently, making your eyes flutter closed. 

“Delicious,” says Ignis as he drops his hand and gives your breast a quick caress. “I do hope you’ll be ready for me when I come back.” 

You give him the biggest shit-eating grin you can muster, and lift the hem of your dress, showing him one of the silky, lacy numbers that you’d been sporting in your boudoir shoot. Ignis’ eyes darken with lust and you quickly drop your clothes as fast as you’d lifted them, skipping back to your desk and sitting, before Ignis can lay another hand on you. 

“You’re quite naughty today,” Ignis purrs as he makes his way towards the door. 

“Oh, no sir,” you tease. “I think I’m being exceptionally good.” 

Ignis lifts an eyebrow and smirks as he opens his office door and slips out into the hallway. 

___________ 

“C’mon, Specs!” Noctis goads as he warps away from Ignis’ lance. “That all you got?” 

Ignis adjusts his stance and sniffs. “I’ll make you eat your words, Highness, if you’re not careful!” 

“Ha! Better than eating vegetables,” Noctis teases back as Ignis breaks into a run, sticking his polearm into the ground and flipping towards him with all the smooth grace of a wild coeurl. 

Noctis warps away a fraction of a second before Ignis lands on top of him, and he reappears ten feet away in a flash of blue, against the far wall of the training facility—but Ignis has already calculated his landing; and before Noctis can egg him on any further, the polearm disappears into the Armiger and is replaced with a dagger, which Ignis flings with deadly accuracy at Noctis—and the prince finds the sleeve of his t-shirt pinned to the wall, sleek silver steel cooling his warm bicep. 

Noctis blinks in surprise at the hairs that Ignis has just split as his adviser saunters up to him, all smug confidence and poise. 

“Dammit,” mutters Noctis as Ignis dissolves the dagger, setting him free. “How do you always change weapons so _fast_?” 

“Extensive concentration and control,” replies Ignis as he lifts the sleeve of Noct’s shirt. “I didn’t hurt you, good. I was quite close—but even I am only human.” 

Noct’s eyes widen at Ignis’ confession—before, Ignis would insist that his tactics were without flaw, but over the past few months, Noctis has seen him improve a lot, even admitting his faults and taking lessons with several of the glaives to build stamina and learn new techniques. 

“No, I’m—I’m fine,” says Noctis, searching Ignis’ face, wondering if Ignis is hiding something from him. _Impossible_, Ignis tells him everything—or does he? “Hey Specs, uh, what about __________?” 

Ignis manages to keep his cool as he looks from Noct’s arm to his face. He smiles softly. “What about her?” 

“Well, you guys have been getting along better, right? I mean you don’t talk about her like you hate her anymore.” 

Ignis shakes his head. “I will admit that I was quite the imbecile at the start,” he says quietly. “Of course I was overworked and needed help. I was a fool to think otherwise.” 

Noctis grins. “Pretty mature of you, Iggy.” 

“I’ve done a lot of thinking. Introspection is not beyond me.” 

“I’m proud of you. I really like her, and Prompto does, too. Do you know that we ended up getting an A plus on that project that she helped us with last week?” 

“She is truly a saint. What was it, three am the night before when you finished? Because you had conveniently forgotten about it, even though Prompto had been begging you to start for two weeks prior?” Ignis raises an eyebrow. 

Noctis hangs his head sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I just _forgot_, okay? I’ve been busy with all this other stuff.” 

“If your royal duties are too much, I can intercede on your behalf with your father,” says Ignis in all seriousness. 

“No, I can do it.” Noctis levels his gaze at Ignis and hardens his jaw. “Trust in me.” 

Ignis nods. “Very well, then.” He looks at the prince’s arm. “Shall we go again?” 

Noct yawns. “Nah, I’m tired.” 

“As you wish, Highness.” Ignis makes his way to the showers, and Noctis follows. Once Ignis is several steps ahead of him, Noct pulls his phone from the Armiger and immediately messages Prompto. 

_ From __Noct__, 5:37 PM: Dude, he’s DEFINITELY sweet on __________. He’s so cute, trying to be all subtle and shit. But it’s there. If they’re not together in secret already, they’re about to be. Not much longer till he cracks, guarantee it _

_ From Prom <3, 5:38 PM: Holy shit, I KNEW it. __Playin' __some KK with her __rn__, want me to start in on the interrogation, lol? _

_ From __Noct__, 5:39 PM: Hell yeah, make her talk about him, see if she spills the beans and says that they’re actually dating. _

_ From Prom <3, 5:40 PM: I take my espionage duties very seriously. For my prince and my country!!!! /salute _

Noctis snorts as he reads Prompto’s reply, and jogs a few steps to catch up with Ignis, who’s turning and motioning for him to hurry up. 

_________ 

It’s Saturday night, and you’ve just arrived at Ignis’ apartment, carrying a bottle of wine. It’s your official one-month anniversary of dating the adviser, and, to your knowledge, the other three don’t know, despite Noct’s nagging. You’ve long had a key, so you let yourself in and slip out of your flats, hanging your purse on the door. 

Ignis is hunched over the stove, three pots in a rolling boil all at once. He cranes his head backwards a little, and you can see the soft smile he’s sporting. “Good evening, love.” 

“Hey Iggy! I brought your favorite Chardonnay,” you say as you set the insulated wine bottle bag on the counter and press yourself up close behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing between his shoulder blades. 

“Mmmm, lovely.” Ignis hums in approval. “Now, don’t distract me, darling, or dinner will never get made.” 

“ ‘D rather eat you for dinner,” you mumble into the soft fabric of his shirt. Ignis rarely dresses down, but he’s humored you tonight—plain, long sleeve black turtleneck, tucked into dark jeans that hug his figure in the most sinful way. He’s wearing his white apron that says _Kiss the Cook _on it, and gods, you can’t wait to do just that. 

“What was that, kitten?” Ignis says as he places a lid on one of the pots and turns, finally embracing you. 

“I said I’d rather eat _you _for dinner,” you tease as you stand on your tiptoes for a kiss. 

Ignis grins beautifully and meets you halfway, tenderly pressing his mouth against your own. He pulls away too quickly, without deepening the kiss, causing you to pout. He chuckles and strokes your hair. “I _mean _it, behave, or we’ll both starve. You know I’m going to give you what you want.” 

“Mmmmmm, guess I’ll just have to have you for dessert, then,” you tease as you round the kitchen island and settle on one of the barstools. 

Ignis snorts and affectionately rolls his eyes, turning back to stir whatever delectable meal he’s decided to prepare. 

“The view from here is pretty good in the meantime, though. I could look at your ass all day,” you call out, and you giggle when you see the faintest hint of pink rise up the back of his long, smooth neck. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Ignis mutters back, placing a spoon on its rest beside the stove and turning again, facing you with folded arms. 

“What, little ol’ me? Psh, nah. It’d take a lot more than that to kill you, I’m sure.” 

Ignis just laughs and goes over to the side counter where you’d set the bottle of wine. He lovingly pulls it out and sighs. “My favorite. Thank you so very much, love.” 

“Hey, _anything _for you. It is our anniversary after all.” 

Ignis smiles and digs in a drawer for a corkscrew and opens the bottle, grabbing two glasses from where they’re hanging upside down from under the top kitchen cabinets. He pours you a proper serving and then serves himself, sliding over to the island to hand you the glass. 

You clink the edge of his glass lightly, and the two of you take a sip at the same time. 

“Perfection,” says Ignis as he gazes at you and licks his lips. 

“Yeah, you are,” you retort, and Ignis grins and blushes. 

“How do you do this to me?” He sets his wine glass on the counter and leans in for another kiss, this time it’s more passionate, all open mouth and tongue. 

You eagerly meet his pace and it’s almost scary how ready you are for him, feeling yourself becoming pliant in his arms as he steps closer to you, wrapping one arm around your waist and winding his fingers in your hair with his other hand. 

A kitchen timer in the hazy distance is what finally makes him come up for air, and damn—a disheveled, flushed Ignis with kiss-swollen lips and fogged-up glasses shouldn’t even be allowed to exist. How in the hell was this man even real? 

“Oops, did I distract you?” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows. 

Ignis smirks. “I’m afraid I did fall victim to temptation. If you’ll kindly go to the table, love, I’ll serve us the meal.” 

“You don’t need help? C’mon, I _am _your assistant, after all.” 

“Oh, you’ll be quite helpful later, don’t fret,” says Ignis as he goes to the stove and turns off burners. 

You feel a surge of excitement at Ignis’ future promise, and slide off the stool with both wine glasses. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis gets sick, and a confession is finally made. Also, Ignis is the best stress relief that you could ask for.

You’re having a particularly pleasant dream of you and Ignis on vacation in Galdin Quay. It’s warm and sunny, a light breeze ruffling the palm tree. Ignis is shirtless, dressed only in swin trunks, sunglasses, and an adorable straw beach hat; you’re in a high-waisted two piece , jeweled flip-flops on your perfectly manicured toes, hair somehow still dry and full of volume, even after swimming; you’re laughing and flirting with each other in plain sight, sipping bright blue cocktails with little umbrellas in them, seated at the best table at the Mother of Pearl restaurant. The sun isn’t far from setting, and even behind his sunglasses you can tell he’s giving you bedroom eyes. Life is perfect 

Somewhere in your dreams, there’s a quiet ringing. It continues until the beach fades away into the early morning light of Ignis’ bedroom. You groan, coming into consciousness as you feel the warmth of Ignis’ naked body behind you. He’s pressed up impossibly close, arm draped over your stomach, face half-buried in your hair. The phone stops, then starts again—it's the King’s Knight theme, which you’d set as the alert tone for both Prompto and Noctis. Sighing, you begrudgingly wiggle out of Ignis’ grip, and he shifts slightly, hand flexing as if wondering where you’d gone. You feel a pang in your chest at the unconscious gesture, smiling as you crawl to the other side of the bed and fumble for your phone. 

Sure enough, a selfie of you and Noctis is flashing on the screen—you push the green button to accept the call. “Hello?” you ask, groggy. “Noct, everything okay?” 

“Hey, ___________.” Noct’s tired, scratchy voice comes through the other end. 

“You sound like shit, dude. No offense.” 

“I feel like shit. Think I have a cold.” 

You run your hands through your hair. “Well, what do you need? I can be right over.” 

“Okay.” A pause. “Where’s Ignis? Couldn’t get a hold of him.” 

“Uh...” You bite your lip. You hate lying to Noctis, but... “Maybe his phone died? I’ll see if I can get a hold of him. In the meantime, what do you need? Medicine? Soup? Someone to bleach the hell out of your apartment?” 

“All of it,” croaks Noctis. “Sorry to wake you up, but...” 

“Nope, don’t be sorry. I’ll be over as fast as I can.” 

“Thanks. ‘Preciate ya.” 

“No problem. Go back to bed.” Noctis hangs up first, and you sigh and put your phone back on the nightstand. Turning over, Ignis is fully awake now, still lying on his side, sharp emerald gaze making you forget how to breathe. It takes everything you have not to snuggle back into his warm embrace and bury your face into his broad, soft chest. “Good morning.” 

“Hello love,” says Ignis, smiling softly, voice still groggy with sleep. “Everything all right?” 

“Well, you won’t like this. That was Noctis on the phone. He says he has a cold. Wants me to come cook and clean and bring him medicine.” 

Ignis’ eyes widen and he sits up immediately. “Noct is _sick_?” 

“Yeah. Calm down, baby. I’m here too. We’ll both help him, don’t stress.” You reach out and cup the side of Ignis’ face, and he leans into it, letting his eyes flutter closed. 

“You’re right,” Ignis breathes. “Come, let’s shower, and I’ll cook us a quick breakfast. Then we can go shopping for what Noct needs.” 

“Good plan, Iggy. He’ll be okay. It happens.” 

Ignis nods, opening his eyes, but you can still see the worry in them. “I just...I worry, you know.” 

“I know. You are so special to each other.” You smile, heart warming as you think about the prince’s relationship with Ignis. “Is your phone off? Noct said he couldn’t get a hold of you...” 

“Oh—” Ignis turns over, sheets sliding down as a result, giving you a tantalizing view of his bare back and ass. “It was on _do not disturb_, how careless of me.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Good thing I’m here, yeah?” 

Ignis turns back over and grins. “Indeed. Now, let’s get cleaned up for the day.” He holds his hand out to you and you take it, falling forward into his embrace as he kisses you and smoothly slides off the bed with you in his arms, carrying you to his spacious bathroom, leaving you flushed and breathless. 

Gladio is already settled onto the couch with a book when you and Ignis let yourself into Noct’s high-rise. There’s a big nest of blankets on the shield’s lap, tufts of black hair poking out at one end and two white-footed socks poking out of the other. Gladio’s arm is hanging heavy over Noct’s side, the other holding a historical romance novel. You giggle at the sight as you slip off your shoes and take the grocery bags from Ignis. 

Ignis goes over to Noctis and Gladio immediately. “Noctis,” Ignis says quietly as he strokes his hair. He sits on the coffee table, continuing to touch Noct. 

Gladio lifts his other hand and reaches over to the end table for his bookmark and saves his place, putting the novel down before he pats the blankets. “Thanks for comin’, Iggy.” 

“Of course,” says Ignis. “How long have you been with him?” 

“About an hour, I guess? He called me and said he got in touch with ____________, said that she’d probably call you. Said you guys were on your way with soup and medicine, and ready to sanitize,” Gladio laughs. 

“Yes, we’re here now.” Ignis looks back from Gladio to the prince and continues to card his fingers through silky black locks, finally causing Noctis to stir. 

“Mmmmmm, Iggy,” he croaks. 

“Sssshhhhh, Noctis. I’m here.” 

Noctis moves with some effort under his blankets, turning from facing Gladio’s midsection out to the living room. He cracks one dark blue eye at Ignis and sniffs. “Nose is stuffy,” he whines. “Throat hurts. Body hurts. Chills.” 

“Astrals, you _do _have a cold. Gladio, has he taken his temperature?” 

Gladio nods. “I made him do it when I got here, yeah. It was ninety-nine point...eight? Something like that. He’s taken two pain killers already.” 

“Good,” says Ignis, voice shaky. “We’ll start on the soup immediately. Noctis, sit up and drink this proper cold medicine.” 

“What flavor is it?” Noctis whines. 

Ignis rolls his eyes and digs the bottle out of the grocery bag he kept with him. “I bought one of each kind. What flavor would you prefer?” 

“Geez, what a spoiled baby!” you laugh as you make your way back into the living room. “Chicken is defrosting, veggies are chopped up small, noodles are boiling.” 

“Thank you--” Ignis has to stop himself before he says _love _or _darling_. He swallows. “Thank you, _________. Would you want to get started on cleaning? Bathroom, his Highness’ room? I’ll finish the food.” 

You wink at him and nod. “I’m on it, Iggy.” 

“‘M _not _spoiled,” says Noctis as he sits up. “Did they have cherry?” 

“Yes, Noct.” Ignis picks open the plastic on the bottle of cold medicine, pops off the measuring cup and screws the top open, pouring Noctis a dose and a half of the thick cherry-flavored liquid. 

Noctis takes it and winces as he drinks, shivering. Gladio puts one of the blankets back around Noct’s shoulders as Ignis opens a bottle of orange juice. 

“Drink, Noct. You need the vitamin C.” 

Noctis takes the juice but hesitates. “Are you and ___________ seeing each other?” 

Ignis wills down a tell-tale blush. “You’re feverish and delusional, Highness,” Ignis murmurs. “Drink the juice.” 

“‘S not an answer,” Noct whines, but obeys anyway. 

Gladio stares at Ignis, and Ignis keeps his eyes on Noct as he guzzles the orange juice. 

“Iggy,” says Gladio. 

“I’m going to contact the school principal and let him know that Noctis will be out of school for the foreseeable future.” He stands. “Lie back down, Noct. I’m going to make the chicken noodle soup.” 

Gladio watches Ignis retreat to the kitchen, then looks at Noctis, who smiles weakly. “Evasion one hundred,” he chuckles, quoting a meme. 

Noctis nods. “They’re totally boning,” he whispers. “I _know _it.” 

Gladio snorts. “They’re probably trying to keep it a secret from everyone, you know. Dating co-workers is kinda discouraged in the Citadel, if you didn’t know. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, but one time two glaives got together and then broke up, and they spent the whole year after sabotaging each other with magic. Your dad finally had to permanently assign one to border patrol duty,” he sighs. 

“Holy shit,” laughs Noctis, causing him to cough. “Ugh...” 

Gladio rubs his back. “Lie back down, Princess. I’ll wake you when the soup’s done.” 

“Okay,” Noctis groans. He cocoons himself in the blankets once more with Gladio’s help, curling up against him. 

Gladio puts his arm over Noctis again and draws him close, grabbing his book from the end table with his one free hand. 

Ignis turns the burner to simmer once all of the ingredients are in one pot, placing the empty dishes in the dishwasher and adding soap, turning it on. You finally emerge from Noct’s bedroom after vacuuming, dusting, changing the sheets, and spraying every clear surface with Lysol. 

You forget yourself for a moment and slide up behind Ignis, hugging his trim waist and pressing your face into his back. “Hey,” you mumble. 

“Darling, not here,” Ignis whispers. 

You pull away and move beside him, sighing. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I know why we have to hide, but that doesn’t mean I like it.” 

Ignis lays a warm hand on your shoulder, and you look up at him through misty eyes. “Don’t cry, love. We’ll tell them when the time is right.” 

“Tell us what?” Noct mumbles as he shuffles into the kitchen, wrapped in one of the blankets, wearing a loose-fitting hoodie and sweatpants with slippers over his socked feet. He shivers as he draws the blanket closer around him and stares at you. 

You can’t help but blush as you look from Noctis to Ignis, whose face is relatively calm. Ignis levels a stern gaze at the prince. 

“Noctis, sit. The soup is ready.” 

“I’m not doing a damn thing until you tell me what you’re whispering about,” Noctis says defiantly. 

“Highness.” Ignis’ voice is cold and firm. “Sit down.” 

Noctis huffs and flops in a chair. Gladio walks in the kitchen a minute later, sniffing the savory aroma of the chicken noodle soup. 

“Smells good, Iggy,” he says as he goes to the cabinet and pulls out four bowls. 

“It’s nothing special,” Ignis says as he adjusts his glasses and digs spoons from the drawer beside the stove. “Just your basic soup.” 

“Does it have vegetables?” Noctis mumbles. 

“Yes,” you answer. “But I chopped them up really small, don’t worry. Besides, it’s the only way you’re gonna get better. You need all those vitamins, buddy.” 

Noctis grumbles. “Orange juice?” 

“I’ll get it.” You grab a new bottle of orange juice from the fridge and open it, setting it down on the table at the same time as Ignis sets a bowl of soup in front of him. Your hands brush together, and Gladio doesn’t miss the intimate gesture and Ignis flushes slightly and turns to serve another bowl. 

“So it’s true,” says Gladio. 

“What’s true?” you say, sitting at the table next to Noctis. 

“You and Ignis are sweet on each other.” Gladio levels his gaze at the adviser. 

Ignis sighs deeply. “When are you two going to _drop _this preposterous series of interrogations?” 

Gladio smirks. “Until we hear a confirmation from the source.” 

You look at Ignis, pleading, unsure of what to say. You don’t want to make him angry by telling the others if he’s not ready. 

Ignis clears his throat. “If you’re referring to _____________’s affections for me, then yes, I am quite aware.” 

Noctis sets his spoon down and turns to Ignis. “You know she likes you?” 

Ignis nods. “Indeed.” He walks to the table and sets the second bowl down in front of you, putting his fingers under your chin and tilting your head up to press his lips to yours. 

There are two squeaks of mixed emotion from the other company in the room as Ignis pulls away, and he cocks an eyebrow at Noctis and Gladio, leaving you to shake off the blush of the public kiss and focus on eating. 

“And I quite like her in return. Now if either of you so much as breathe a word of this outside of our little circle, there’s a high possibility that she won’t be allowed to stay. You know Citadel policy on interoffice romance.” He turns and walks back to the counter and begins to fill a third bowl with soup. 

Noctis flicks his wrist and his phone materializes into his hand in a flash of blue, and in seconds he’s furiously texting Prompto, who’s only missing out on the current activities because he’s at work. 

You look up at Gladio, who smiles. “Congrats,” he says. “You got him.” 

You nod and blush again. “Yeah. Yeah, I really did, didn’t I?” 

____________ 

“Ugh, I _never _thought that meeting was going to end,” you whine as you enter Ignis’ office. It’s very late afternoon, and you’ve just come from a long high council meeting about the growing crisis with Niflheim’s sneaky war games and the Lucian refugee predicament. You set your work tote on your desk chair and pick up your chunky chocobo plush, squeezing it and letting out a deep sigh. 

“Everything all right, darling?” Ignis calls from his desk, looking up from his computer screen. 

“Yeah, I’ll be okay—it was just a lot to process. I’ll email my notes in a second, just...let me calm down first.” You close your eyes and squeeze the fuzzy toy hard, shaking as you focus on your breathing, trying not to let the anxiety consume you. A minute later you feel the warmth of Ignis at your front as he envelops you in a tight hug. 

“It’s all right, love. I’m here.” 

You sigh into Ignis’ chest and let him squeeze you tight. 

“You know,” he whispers in your ear. 

“Mmmmm,” you respond, face against his shirt, praying that the makeup setting spray holds. 

“I know a pretty good stress reliever,” Ignis continues, letting his lips faintly touch the edge of your ear as he talks. 

You shiver and tilt your head up to look at him, setting your chocobo plush back in its place. “Oh? What sort of _stress reliever _did you have in mind?” 

Ignis’ eyes twinkle behind his glasses as he slides his gloved hand up to your neck and settles it there, applying the slightest pressure. 

Heat surges between your legs, and you instantly go from zero to a hundred. You feel your face heat up as you gaze at Ignis and lick your lips. 

“Is this okay?” Ignis asks. 

You nod as much as you can, movement restricted with his hand around your throat. “Door?” you ask, breathless. 

Ignis releases you and crosses to the door, turning the lock as well as the overhead light, leaving the office to be dark except for the few floor lamps giving off soft yellow glows. He grabs your hand and whisks you over to his desk, pushing you onto your stomach on top of the scattered papers. 

You feel heat rise to your face as wetness pools in your core. You splay both of your hands out on either side of you for purchase as you feel Ignis drag his hand ever-so-slowly down the back of your dress and beneath the hem, lifting it up. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs to your ass, which is clad in a simple pair of silky black underwear. “Did you wear these just for me today?” 

“Everything I wear is for you,” you whine, wiggling in anticipation. “Come _on_, quit teasing...” A small smack to your backside quickly silences you, causing you to draw a sharp intake of breath, and you tense up as Ignis spanks you one, two, three more times. You gasp in a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain as Ignis pulls your underwear down, letting them drop and pool around your ankles before he guides your foot out of one leg hole. 

“Is that so?” Ignis asks as he rubs and squeezes at your bare ass, which is stinging red with his handprint. 

You feel his hands leave you and then return seconds later, and you feel his bare skin against yours, now, parting your thick thighs and slipping one finger into your dripping cunt. 

“Mmmmmm, already so wet for me, love,” Ignis purrs as he settles his other hand on your hip, squeezing your soft fat beneath his calloused fingers. 

You moan quietly as you thrust back on his fingers, aching to get them further inside of you. “Ignis,” you breathe. 

“What is it that you want?” Ignis sinks to his knees and kisses the small of your back as he continues to finger-fuck you. 

Your legs are shaking, all anxiety of the past few hours turning into fuel for Ignis’ filthy ministrations; and you’re gripping his desk, trying not to crumple up important documents. He twists his arm and gets his fingers deep inside of you, causing you to bite back a loud moan. 

“I wish I could hear you, darling,” growls Ignis. “The sounds you make are utterly obscene.” 

A thrill runs through you, the prospect of getting caught adding to your arousal. Even though Ignis has locked the door and turned off most of the lights, there’s still a chance any one of the other guys could find their way in, or call either one of your phones, which would surely alert anyone in the hallway that the office was occupied after all. 

Ignis removes his fingers and grips your other hip, pulling you back until you feel his full lips and long tongue in your folds. 

You sniff back tears as you rock back on Ignis’ face, burying your head in the crook of your arm to keep as quiet as you can. You feel your release pool deep in your core, and minutes later, your whole body is shaking with pleasure, gushing all over Ignis’ face. He pulls away and shoves his fingers back inside of you, giving you something to contract around as you ride out your orgasm. 

“Still with me, darling?” Ignis says as he stands and replaces his glasses. 

You nod weakly. “Please,” you whisper. “Take me, Ignis. I need your cock.” 

“Your wish is my command, princess.” Ignis pulls a condom from his pocket and holds the foil packet between his teeth as he unbuckles his belt and lets his dress slacks and boxer briefs fall down around his ankles. He slicks his hard cock up with spit and rolls the condom on, lifting your hips with one hand as he lines himself up with your pussy from behind. “Are you ready for me?” 

You groan and nod. “Please, please baby...it’s yours, take what’s yours...” 

“I think I will.” And with that, Ignis slams forward, bottoming out inside of your slick heat immediately. He lets out a low whine as he begins to move. “Astrals, __________, you always feel so divine...” 

“Fuck me, Ignis, please, _gods_...” 

“Is this what you’ve dreamed of? Such a dirty little girl, thinking of such debauchery inside of such a reverent building...” 

Ignis’ teasing only makes you roll your hips back harder as he takes you. You feel his bare fingers twist and grip into your thick hair, pulling your head and chest up slightly. Ignis leans over your back and slides one hand down the front of your dress, finding his way inside of your bra and gripping your breast hard as he snaps his hips forward with everything he’s got. “You take my cock so well,” Ignis coos as he holds you against his front, rhythm not faltering. “I could fuck you all bloody day.” 

“_Yes,” _ you moan brokenly. 

“What if someone were to walk in here right now? I bet you wouldn’t even want me to stop, would you, kitten? You want the whole Citadel to know how much of a slut you are for my cock.” 

You sob as you nod, body shaking as you feel another orgasm crash over you. 

“One day I’ll have to fuck you in the conference chambers, right before a meeting with his Majesty, leaving you to scramble to fix your clothes and hair just before the council arrives, letting you sit for six hours with my cum dripping down your thighs...” 

You whimper as Ignis talks low and dirty into your ear, but you can feel him shaking, his rhythm starting to falter, and you know he’s close. “I’d fuck you on top of that goddamn table,” you moan back. “Have you splayed out all underneath me as I ride you into oblivion...” 

“Oh, _darling_...” Ignis buries his head into your shoulder, teeth biting down into the thick cotton, muffling his loud cries as he gushes into you, filling up the condom, hips giving a last few lazy thrusts before he finally stills. 

The two of you are sweaty and panting, boneless and spent. Ignis finally gathers the strength to lift himself off of you, peeling the condom from his softening cock and tying it, making sure to bury it in his desk trash can under coffee cups and wads of paper. He kisses the small of your back and helps you back into your panties before dressing his bottom half. 

You turn and melt into his arms for a kiss, whining as you taste yourself on him. A knock on the door interrupts you, and Ignis pulls away just as Gladio’s voice booms from the other side. 

“Quit fuckin’ and open the door, Iggy! Time for training.” 


	11. Chapter 11

_ Two years later... _

Noctis storms into the office, Ignis trailing closely behind, arms full of papers and his clipboard. 

“Highness--Noct, _please--” _

“Fuck it all!” shouts Noctis, and Ignis quickly shuts the office door. 

You glance up from your laptop, startled at the prince’s sudden outburst and the nervous energy that has suddenly invaded the room. You swallow hard and glance at Ignis, whose face is twisted up in disgust. 

“Noctis,” Ignis says firmly, and the prince groans loudly and flops face-first onto the chaise lounge. 

Ignis sighs and walks to his desk, dumping the papers on it and rounding the other side to go sit next to him. 

“Is this a bad time to ask what’s wrong?” you say quietly, not wanting to upset either of them. 

Ignis wedges his way under Noct’s head and begins to stroke his silky black hair for comfort. He turns his worried green eyes to you. “Come sit, love.” 

You immediately rise and pad over to the lounge, snuggling up to Ignis. “What happened?” 

“As a last-ditch effort in peace negotiations, Niflehiem has offered up the Oracle as a bride for Noctis.” 

Your jaw drops as you stare at Noct, who’s shaking with angry tears. “A...a political marriage?” 

“For peace,” Ignis nods. 

“Oh, shit—Noct, honey, I’m sorry...” You tentatively place a hand on Noct’s lower back, rubbing soothing circles into his soft black t-shirt. 

Noctis turns his head to the side and sniffs hard. “I love Luna, but I don’t..._ love _love her, y’know...and...and what about Prompto...” Noctis chokes out another sob and buries his face against Ignis again. 

You feel your eyes start to water as you gaze at Ignis, who’s quietly weeping himself, but staying silent, continuing to put through Noct’s hair like he’s a big ol’ cat. “Surely...surely Prompto knew this was always gonna happen, Noct. I mean, you’re a prince, you’re kinda expected to carry on the royal bloodline and all that. I mean, it still sucks, but...I know he’s not going to be mad at you.” 

“That’s not the point!” Noctis roars into Ignis’ thigh. “I shouldn’t have...strung him along...I don’t even wanna _be _the prince...it’s not fair...!” Noctis makes a fist and digs his fingernails into his palm hard enough to break skin. 

“I...” You sigh. “Nevermind,” you say quietly. “I don’t think I’m of much help right now.” You continue to touch Noctis gently, hoping to convey as much sympathy and comfort as you can. 

Ignis shakes his head. “You’re always of tremendous help, darling.” He looks down at Noctis. “Do you want to see Prompto? I’m sure he’s running drills with the glaives...” 

Noctis sniffs hard and nods. 

Ignis smiles a little and turns back to you. “_____________, would you mind fetching Prompto?” 

You give Ignis a kiss on the cheek and pat Noctis affectionately. “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” 

Prompto’s sweaty and covered in gunpowder and flecks of dirt and metal as he nervously walks beside of you on the way back up to Ignis’ office. Gladio trails behind, jaw set tight with emotion, but he’s stoic and silent. Prompto can’t shut up. 

“Oh man, what if Noct hates me? Are you sure he wants to see me? What if I just make things worse? I should just move away so he won’t be conflicted about feelings anymore...what if I say the wrong thing? I’m not good with words like Iggy is, I’ll probably...” 

“Prompto,” you cut in, stilling your walk. 

Prompto turns to you, eyes watery and cheeks flushed. He’s bouncing from foot to foot, hands wringing. 

“Noctis is mad at _himself _for falling in love with you. He’s a prince. Deep down he’s always known that he’s had a duty, that he was probably going to be pushed into a dumb political marriage. At least...at least it’s Luna, y’know? Not a total stranger. The best thing you can do is to be there for him. Don’t let him push you away.” 

Prompto wipes tears from his eyes and nods. “I’d never abandon him like that. He’s my best friend, and now I’ve sworn an oath to protect him. I’m not leaving him, no matter what happens or who he has to marry.” 

“Then you just need to reassure him of that.” You draw Prompto in for a hug, and the slender blond melts into your embrace and squeezes you tightly, burying his face into your shoulder. You rub his back as he hugs you, whispering more words of encouragement into his ear. 

Prompto opens the office door first, followed by Gladio, with you bringing up the rear. Noctis is finally sitting up, but he’s leaning on Ignis’ shoulder, holding his hand. His face falls when he sees the blond enter, and he stumbles over himself as he runs to the door. 

“Prompto, I--!” Noctis crashes into his best friend, knocking him backwards a few steps. Gladio catches them both. 

They’re both instantly crying, nuzzling into each other and trying to talk through stuttered breaths and sharp inhales and running noses. Their hands are moving, grabbing onto each other like they can’t get close enough. Prompto surprises everyone when he bends and lifts Noctis up in his arms, holding him under his butt; Noctis gasps and wraps his legs around Prompto’s middle, and Prompto strides to the couch, sitting down with Noctis still lodged firmly in his lap. You and Gladio tentatively make your way over to the couch; Gladio lowers himself in an adjacent armchair, and you shamelessly sit on Ignis’ lap. 

The five of you are silent for a long time until Noctis and Prompto run out of tears. The prince raises his head and gazes at his best friend underneath him. 

“Prom,” he says, voice hoarse from crying. “I’m--I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do, I--” 

“Hey, buddy,” Prompto replies, and everyone can tell how wrecked he is under the surface. “I’m not going anywhere, all right? I’ll be at your side, always. No matter what happens, no matter what your duty forces you to do. You’re _my _duty, and I’m not leaving.” 

Noctis nods and sniffs, turns his head to Gladio, then to you and Ignis. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I was...immature.” 

“Don’t sweat it, Noct. You have a right to be upset. This is all rather sudden, right? And you’re still so young...” You turn to Ignis. “How long do we have until this wedding, anyway?” 

“Four weeks,” Ignis replies as he absently hugs you closer. “The four of us will be heading off to Altissia one week prior to the date in order to finalize preparations.” 

“Oh, wow—that _is _really sudden. Uh. Can...can I come?” 

“Of course,” says Noctis quietly. “We’re not complete without you there.” 

You feel a tightness in your chest at Noct’s words as you nod. You look to Ignis, who’s gazing at you softly. 

“But of course. Who better than to assist me with the final details?” 

“Oh, I see!” you reply, laughing. “I’m just the hired help, huh? _Figures_.” 

“Quite,” says Ignis, smirking. “You could always wear one of those maid uniforms, and then I could...” 

“Gross!” laughs Noctis. 

Gladio just rolls his eyes. “Real talk, though, Noct. If we’re gonna make this road trip, you gotta beef up your training. No more slacking off.” 

“I’m not slacking!” Noctis pouts. 

“Road trip means camping,” Gladio continues with a gleam in his eye. “Camping means being out in the wild. Being out in the wild means daemons and creatures who love to snack on tasty little twinks like yourself.” 

“Oh fuck off,” drones Noctis. “I can handle it.” 

“I’m not taking any chances with your whiny ass,” Gladio says as he glares at Noctis. “I won’t fail my duty to protect you, and part of that means making sure you can protect yourself if something happens to me beforehand. Starting tomorrow your ass is gonna be here at six am sharp, and we train until I say we’re done.” Gladio raises an eyebrow at Prompto. “You too, Blondie. We gotta make sure we work as a unit.” 

Ignis adjusts his glasses. “I suppose I’ll need to be in on this as well.” 

You look back at Ignis. “Well what the hell am _ I _supposed to do?” And the question is one you’ve been meaning to ask for months. Since Noct’s graduation and Prompto’s induction into the Crownsguard, Ignis is running around less and less for Noctis, because the prince has been slowly maturing, coming into his own and actually attending policy meetings and making decisions on his own without his father’s presence or input. Lately, you’ve been feeling more like a decorative fixture in Ignis’ office rather than any actual help, unlike when you first started two years ago. 

Ignis chuckles and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “There will still be odds and ends to tie up here, love. Would you care to be the official wedding planner on behalf of his Highness?” 

Stunned, you look to Noctis for approval. 

“I mean, you are a girl and everything, so...” He shrugs. “It’s cool. Whatever Iggy needs.” 

You grin widely at Noct. “Then that’s what I’ll do. Thank you, Noct. I promise your wedding will be the wedding of the century.” 

He smiles just a little. “Yeah,” he nods. “Might as well go all out, huh?” 

_____________ 

One week later—just two weeks until the boys’ departure for Gladin Quay, and then their crossing of the sea to the country of Accordo—you and Ignis are at home in your apartment. Ignis is bent over the stove, and you’re seated at the kitchen island, helping Noctis and Prompto in a few rounds of King’s Knight. You hear Ignis turn and shuffle around the kitchen for a few minutes, but you don’t bother to look up until you feel his body heat closing in behind you. 

He rests his head on your shoulder and watches you finish the co-op mission. It’s the first time you’d gotten to play all day, because for the last week, you’d been holed up in a small council room with other officials, going over standard royal wedding protocols, colors, food options, and guest lists; there’d been conference calls with Lunafreya Nox Fleuret herself and with the seedy Chancellor Ardyn Izunia; Regis had been a regular at several of the meetings as well, pleased at your new position and the fact that you’d stayed in Noct’s inner circle for so long. 

You finish with a quiet victory exclamation and tilt your head to the side after going back to the game’s home screen. “Hey there, Iggy.” 

“Hello love,” says Ignis quietly, voice catching. If you weren’t so close to him, you wouldn’t have noticed it. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Ignis clears his throat as he stands up to full height. “Humor me for a bit, love, and turn around?” 

You turn on the barstool, nervous about the tone of Ignis voice, but when you meet his emerald gaze, you see nothing but affection in his eyes. “Iggy, talk to me.” 

He nods. “Ever since this whole business of Noct getting married, although it’s under less than ideal circumstances—it's had me thinking about my own future. For almost my entire life, I have been in the personal service of Noctis, forgoing my own needs in favor of his own. I was never afforded the luxury of long-term relationships—I'm at work nearly twenty-four hours a day, even when I’m not at the Citadel, and who in their right mind would want to keep up with my odd hours? I never saw myself being committed to someone as much as I am committed to Noctis. My life is in his service, and I am, in many ways, married to my station.” He coughs again, pauses, and then continues. “But ever since you...you walked into my life with your little desk terrariums and your chocobo plush and your pink laptop and your infectious smile, I...and when I finally came to my senses and stopped acting like a bloody fool...I...I didn’t recognize my own emotions and I was in denial for an embarrassingly long time. I...” Ignis wipes his eyes as his voice trails. “Forgive me. I’m quite terrified.” 

Your heart is pounding as you shake your head. “Iggy, it’s me. It’s okay. Say what you need to say.” 

Ignis just smiles at you as though in a daze and drops to one knee. 

You gasp and fling your hand over your mouth, eyes suddenly shut as tears burst forth. 

“As I was saying,” Ignis continues through his own quiet tears. “I cannot imagine my life without you, now. I know that you are as dedicated to Noctis as I am, and I know that devotion extends to me, even though I am horribly unworthy. The future is quite uncertain, and can change on a dime. And I want you in my future, no matter the circumstance. So, ____________, will you do me the immense pleasure of becoming my wife?” 

Your hand is still clamped over your mouth and you’re sobbing uncontrollably. You're vaguely aware of nodding your head, too stunned and overcome with emotion to even speak. You feel Ignis slide a cold ring onto your finger, and he envelopes you moments later, squeezing you as you sob into his shirt. 

“I must admit, I hardly expected such a reaction,” he whispers into your hair. “While your head movement is an obvious _yes_, some verbal confirmation would be lovely,” he chuckles. 

You manage to pull back and open your eyes, coughing and inhaling sharply, trying to breathe. You look up at Ignis in wonder. “Of course, Ignis. I love you so much...of course I’ll be your wife, I...I’m so happy with you!” And the sobs threaten to overtake you again, and you cover your face with both of your hands. 

Ignis smiles as he continues to stand close, petting your hair. “You make me exquisitely happy, darling.” He kisses the top of your head. “Do look at your ring when you have a moment? I hope it’s to your liking.” 

After another thirty minutes of nearly hyperventilating in the kitchen, you manage to calm down enough to look at the ring on your finger. It’s a stunning solitaire diamond, set in a rose gold band and dotted with small cuts of morganite around the band. It takes your breath away as the light from the ceiling fixture reflects from it and casts prisms round the room. 

“Oh--Ignis, _oh_,” is all you can manage to say. “I...” 

“Gladiolus came with me to pick it out, believe it or not.” 

“It’s...it’s beautiful, I...I can’t...it’s _ too _good for me, Ignis, I...” 

“Hush now, I’ll hear none of that nonsense.” He sighs. “It’s not good enough in my opinion, but if you like it, then I’m quite satisfied.” 

You shake your head as you take the ring from your fingers and turn it around in your hands, inspecting it from every angle. It’s flawless, just like Ignis, and you’re wondering what alternate universe you’ve fallen into where Ignis Scientia has just asked you to marry him. Something catches your eye on the inside of the ring—and you can see that your initials, a heart, and Ignis’ initials have been engraved into the inside. You sniff back more tears as you look up at him. “Didn’t take you for the sort for something so sappy as this,” you chuckle quietly. 

Ignis smiles. “Well--I didn’t used to be that way, obviously. I believe I have you to blame for breaking down all of those silly walls I had built around my heart.” 

You blush as you look back down at the ring and slide it back onto your left ring finger. “So...when did you want to...” 

“I’ve already spoken with Noct. The day before his wedding to the Oracle, we’re to have a private ceremony at a small church in Accordo’s lower district. Away from prying eyes. Just us, along with your parents and a few friends if you so choose.” 

“Yeah, that sounds...amazing.” 

“What’s wrong, darling? We can change the plans if you prefer, I just thought--” 

“No, it’s...I’m sorry, Ignis, I’m just so caught up in Noct’s wedding...and now I have to plan my own...” 

“Darling,” says Ignis as he slides his arms around you. “I’ve already planned it. You needn’t lift a finger. All that’s left for you to do is find a suitable dress.” 

“Oh--oh!” Your eyes light up as you stare at your new fiancé. “Hey, is that why you put me in charge of this, so you could plan ours behind my back?” 

Ignis smirks. “Well...I suppose I have been maneuvering a _bit _behind the scenes...” 

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Since...since _when_?” 

“Well, I had already been thinking about asking for your hand well before the _proposal _from Niflheim. That arrangement just cemented it further.” Ignis bends down to kiss you lightly, blushing as he draws away. “The future is so uncertain, and Noctis needs good friends around him. I want you to be a part of us, always. Because you have become a part of me.” 

____________ 

On the steps of the Citadel, you watch from the bottom as the king bids Noctis and his retinue farewell. The king’s sleek black Regalia is purring in the morning light, eager to start the journey. The boys are all pressed into their Crownsguard fatigues, and there’s a bittersweet energy in the air as they descend down to the car after Regis bids him farewell. 

Ignis can’t get to you fast enough—you fall into each others’ arms, knowing that it will only be about five days before you see each other again—but the time and distance feels like an eternity. 

Ignis crushes you into a hug and inhales sharply as he buries his face in your hair. “Bloody hell, I’m going to miss you,” he says, voice muffled. 

You nuzzle into his chest, trying to take in the sharp scent of his cologne, the underlying musk of his body wash, deodorant—the smell of the dry cleaners on 5th Avenue that’s practically woven into the threads of his blazer and button up. “I’ll b-be right behind you,” you say, trying not to cry. 

Ignis finally pulls away after several long minutes and stares down at you with a smile. “I cannot wait to finally call you my own.” 

“I’ve always been yours, Ignis,” you say quietly. “But...wait for me in Altissia, okay? I’ll make sure everything is finalized here.” 

Ignis nods and leans down to kiss you violently, like he’s a man starved. His gloved hands wind their way into the hair on the back of your head and grip tightly, causing you to spill quiet moans into his mouth as you let his tongue assault yours. 

Only after a few awkward coughs from the guys does Ignis pull away, face all flushed, with kiss-swollen lips and fogged-up glasses. Noctis steps to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Come on, Iggy. We should head out.” The prince levels his gaze at you and smiles. “Don’t be late. We’ll be waiting on you.” 

You nod as Noctis pulls you in for a quick hug. 

“Thank you for everything,” he whispers. 

Prompto and Gladio say their goodbyes, and then suddenly the boys are off, and you turn back to the Citadel, following in Regis’ footsteps as you ascend the stone stairs. 

__________ 

The lighting in the church is small, only the candles illuminating the aisle and the altar are providing light. The rest of the overcast day shines through the giant stained-glass depiction of the Leviathan in the rear of the church. Noctis is dressed in a simple black suit at the end of the aisle, nothing like what he’s going to be wearing tomorrow. A few close friends are in attendance, and your mother sits in the front row, along with a very pleased-looking Lunafreya Nox Fleuret; your dad is poised with you, ready to walk down the aisle. A lone violinist sits in the corner and plays a quiet melody. Ignis is standing at the altar, fidgeting with his gloves; Gladio, who’s right behind him, puts a heavy hand on his shoulder to help him relax. Prompto is across from Ignis, holding out a silk pillow with your added wedding banded-ring and Ignis’ wedding band. He’s flicking his pretty blue eyes from Ignis to you and he’s a bundle of nervous excitement. There’s one random government official in the last aisle, purely for the legal hullabaloo of getting married in a foreign country, but you don’t mind. It’s all you can do to keep breathing as the violinist breaks into the traditional song, and you mother and friends stand up in the pews—and then it’s one foot in front of the other, breathe, don’t cry, don’t cry, until you’re finally in front of Noctis. Your father kisses you on the cheek and goes to sit beside your mother. 

You look to Ignis, then to Noct, who’s got an amused smirk on his face. 

“Ready, lovebirds?” 

“Noctis,” Ignis rolls his eyes. 

“Okay, okay, sheesh. Relax, Iggy. You’re doing great.” 

You snort, causing Ignis to visibly soften and smile as well. Noct proceeds with the short, simple ceremony; Prompto digs your note card of vows out of his pocket at the appropriate time, and Ignis recites his afterward, grabbing both of the rings as Noct begins to recite the phrases for you and Ignis to copy. It’s all over in a whirlwind, and Ignis kisses you to the quiet whoops and claps of your family and friends, then leads you down the aisle and outside of the church doors into the warm Altissian afternoon. 

“Well, Mrs. Scientia,” Ignis purrs as he grabs your hand. “Are you ready for our dinner celebration? It’s only a short walk from here.” 

You shiver at your new last name and look back at the company that’s getting up and gathering their things to follow—then back to Ignis. “Yeah,” you say, smiling. “I’m ready to go anywhere with you, Ignis. Forever.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK Y'ALL SO MUCH FOR FOLLOWING ALONG WITH MY DUMB LIL IGNIS/READER STORY. Y'all have been so interactive and kind and I cannot thank you enough for sticking with me through this. Major kudos to CyanideCherub for being my second brain with this final chapter--I hoped you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for your constant support of my stories--please, PLEASE comment, even if it's only a simple "I really liked this!" I'm in constant need of validation from strangers on the internet and that little "Inbox (1)" notification in my email means more to me than you'll ever know. I write because your comments keep me going! <3 Thank you so much for sticking with me through long hiatuses because real life sucks sometimes--so thank you for waiting. I hope you've enjoyed The Assistant and your fantasy with Ignis. We love one (1) tall glasses boi.
> 
> ( ALSO Luna totally lets Prom be the royal consort. ;D )

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, if you have a few minutes, check out this Tumblr post. And if you wanna buy me coffee, you know what the username is. <3 
> 
> https://incinc.tumblr.com/post/187886205248/help-i-guess


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